Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained
by ghost.713
Summary: Guardian angels have never been perfect creatures, but a one-time hitman might be stretching things.
1. Ghosts and Guardians

**REVISED: **September 20th, 2013  
**Characters: **Kolyat Krios, Oriana Lawson and other little-known residents of the Wards; cameos by main characters.**  
Rating: **T. Rated for language, violence and suggestive themes. Subject to change.

A word of thanks to my friends, for helping this come to life. :)

* * *

**Prologue**

Ghosts and Guardians

* * *

_He'd thought he'd feel nothing. But no, he'd still felt some things. He'd felt the presence of flat walls and flat floors. He'd felt sterile air, a sense of static; the slow burn of relay travel._

_And he'd also felt alone. _

_It'd been easy enough to know why. He'd left familiar faces far behind. He had no one left to guide him, no one left to speak soft words of encouragement while he traveled far between the stars._

_She was gone._

_She only existed in brief bursts of sensory information known as memory by then. He could have called on her - wrested her visage from his past - but his thoughts had been dark... too dark for sunset-colored eyes._

_His scales had felt weathered, dry; pulling in weird ways against the base of his neck. He'd been pressed in by empty static. Empty air. And there had been voices, none of which he'd grown up with. It had been a typical transport shuttle. He'd never been in one before. He hadn't done a lot of things._

_That was changing._

_In one hand, he'd kept a holo. A strange thing it was, by drell standards, and he hadn't needed to look at it more than once. But he had. He'd lit the holo by and by, turned it in his palm, and let the angles of a foreign face imprint into his memory. It joined the catalog of other faces he'd encountered throughout the course of his life, strangers and loved ones alike, although the latter were all dead to him._

She _was dead, and he had only one person left to blame._

_Alone..._

_He'd hated the uncertainty. He'd hated thinking about his life. He hadn't wanted Kahje, but he hadn't wanted this, either. He'd wanted more than the mementos of a man who had been little more than a phantom. He'd wanted more than trinkets of supposed sentiment._

_He'd wanted answers._

_So he had taken the credits, and the holo, and anything else that might have proven useful and left. And as that shuttle had carried him through the void between the stars on a course for the Citadel, he'd let his thoughts turn dark and in upon themselves. The world outside his body entertained the same old cycles: sleeping, eating, waiting. He'd gone through the motions and hadn't thought twice about the detached feeling it brought, or if it should unnerve him._

_Alone._

_Transit officials had asked for his name when the Citadel's Wards arms loomed into view. He'd told them hesitantly at first, both his given name and his last. By the time he'd reached Zakera Ward, he'd felt much more at ease._

_Krios was a killer's name. It would suit his needs._

* * *

_The day they'd left for Zakera Ward, she'd felt ill._

_It had been more of a mental state than a physical one. She'd known her sister was behind the move. Her sister had always been behind everything, every twist and turn and coincidental streak of fortune she and her family had ever encountered. Her adoptive mother's most recent promotion and their relocation to the Citadel had been no less coincidental._

_Her guardian angels were at work. Something must have gone wrong... again._

_And so, just like the time she and her parents had left Illium, she had her sister's contact information and the names of all the credible information brokers she'd ever used encrypted onto an OSD. She'd it kept in a pocket close to her breast throughout the moving process, not trusting that it wouldn't be lost or mishandled with the rest of her luggage. Her parents had remained oblivious._

_It had been for the best._

_The galaxy was full of opportunity. It was something she'd been eager to explore in the field of colony development, but as she and her parents had sped through the nearest relay on a course for the Citadel, the insurmountable wealth of space felt more intimidating than welcoming. She would have to adjust to this new uncertainty._

_It was fortunate that she'd always been good at adjusting._

_She'd listened to her adoptive parents talk animatedly about their future while on the shuttle to the Wards. Topics had included new jobs, humanitarian efforts, her continuing education, and their living arrangements, among other things. She had numerous Wards institutes bookmarked on her extranet account and had taken the time to browse through their degree programs, but always her thoughts had turned back to her sister. Her sister wouldn't have wanted her to worry, but her sister hadn't counted on her suspecting as much as she did._

_She'd been left with little choice but to trust that her sister and her sister's associates knew what they were doing. She'd become used to relying on blind faith and frustration. She hadn't expected an explanation. _

_But then, the unexpected: Midway through the Citadel move her guardian angel had sent a message promising just that. It had been their first correspondence in what felt like a long time._

_The evasive tone coloring her sister's e-mail had done nothing to allay her suspicions._

_She'd played the violin to pass the time. She'd been practicing in their transit cabin when the Citadel winked into existence under the light of the Serpent Nebula. The sight of it had made her stop playing mid-motion, inspired a sense of awe and a sliver of fear._

_It had to have been for the best, but she'd still wanted answers. She'd get them, too... somewhere here._

* * *

_Kahje had been all rainclouds and gray-studded skies. The rain had plagued him in his youth; ran down his face and gotten in his eyes. He had seen it run into the Encompassing that swirled around the bio-domes. He had seen it swallow the body of his mother when she'd slipped away and out of sight, weighted down by stones._

_The Citadel had never known rain._

_But what it lacked in rain it made up for in people. At any one time there had been a thousand alien faces communicating a thousand different cues. He'd expected to learn fast, but not so much all at once. Artificial light flickered above the fins of his head when he'd walked down the halls._

_Voices. Music. Bright, blinking banners. Blues and reds at the corners of his eyes. Structures of metal and plastic had been interspersed with splashes of foliage transplanted from a dozen alien worlds, all locked in perpetual spring, but it hadn't felt like night or day or spring or fall. The Wards had nothing but partitioned windows and space between them and Widow's light. The only sunset that existed was the one he'd kept within his mind._

_They'd asked for an I.D. at customs. A human officer had displayed pale pink gums and commented on how rare it was to see a drell. They'd been satisfied with his passport, but he'd shied away from the security centers afterward. The person he'd been looking for wouldn't be found there._

_And he'd found that person - a human - chattering away in one of the public comm terminals on the 28th level of Zakera's Mid-Wards. His scales had prickled against the air when he'd caught sight of two leather boots, smudged cuffs and a cocky swagger; the holo sprung to mind when the man before him had turned. There it had been, clear as day, perfectly imposed over the human's face in his mind's eye: the familiar gauntness, an identical face, give or take ten years or so._

_He'd strode forward. His middle had felt tight and coiled, and the floor hard against his heels. The human had spotted him by then. The boy had frozen, confused and wary._

_"Is this you?" he'd demanded. The rasp of his voice had carried between them only to be muffled by the thrum of a nearby club. The holo winked in miniature on his outstretched palm._

_"Is this you?" he'd asked again when the human appeared too startled to reply._

_"That's me," the human had said. The boy's face had then contorted into something that passed for recognition. "You... you're Krios!"_

_Revulsion and something shameful - something yearning and _hurt - _had welled within his heart at that name._

_"You're his son," the boy had continued, oblivious. "Shit, I didn't know that you were... I thought he'd -"_

_"That doesn't matter," he'd said. The holo had since disappeared from his palm. "I'm looking for work."_

_"Work?" The human had nodded. "Yeah... yeah, I can hook you up. I mean, Krios, right? Just what sort of work are we talking?"_

_He'd leaned forward. "I need a gun."_

* * *

_The Tayseri Ward had suffered a great deal of damage during the Battle of the Citadel, and it had still been recovering when they'd taken a detour to survey the Dilinaga and Auxua districts. Her parents would be spending a great deal of time there, with her father working as a transit tech in the Dilinaga district and her mother with Inter-Wards public relations. They'd had an apartment complex reserved in Tayseri, but they'd been more interested in getting her settled in her own place at Zakera Ward._

_When they'd left for the keel docking station, her mother had taken notice of various anti-quarian labor signs. The older woman had been incensed on the entire ride from that point on, and by the way her father had looked humored, she'd supposed this had been a good move for both of them._

_Not that she'd expected any less from her guardian._

_They'd arrived at the Zakera dock soon after. She'd noticed the hanar first, two of them, both idling outside customs. She'd seen many back on Illium, but the intricate bands of light that had glided through their bodies caught her eye when she and her parents clambered out of their shuttle._

_The Wards were never dark, she'd learned. They'd always been illuminated by the watchful eye of the Serpent Nebula. A cautionary warning flashing over a ledge nearby stated that dropped items or persons jumping would fall towards the windows. She'd been sure to sidle away from the platform edges after that. She wasn't on a planet any more._

_Illium had never seemed so far away._

_A woman at customs had said something about foreknowledge of their arrival. Her father had scratched at his retreating hairline and laughed a thanks. A turian commuter might have said something racist when they'd been swept from the dock and into the hall for security clearance. She'd get used to it._

_A scan had been required. She'd twisted her fingers below her navel when the bright grid of the scanner hummed across her dress. As they waited for it to finish, she'd mentioned to her mother that the scanners in Zakera were some of the best in the galaxy. Her mother had laughed and mentioned that it was good they had little to worry about. It had made her feel better... sort of._

_The turian officer performing the scan let them go. They'd found themselves in a C-Sec lobby after exiting the hall. Her parents had wanted to see "her new place" before retiring to their own apartment block, something she'd relented to with a flushed smile._

_She'd been pleased with her apartment. She'd still been poking around the place when her mother laid the ground rules for their arrangement, said rules being that they (her parents) wouldn't pry into her personal life as long as she kept in touch (weekly. Daily. Hourly. ...Maybe not hourly.) Her father had been less enthused with the idea of them living separately, but in light of her continuing education and blossoming womanhood, he'd had to concede the point. With a final farewell and a few wet smacks that might have been kisses, they'd eventually left her to her own devices._

_The first thing she'd done was activate her extranet account and set up her personal terminal. Once situated, she'd turned her attention to unpacking the rest of her things, but that activity had been cut short by a chime of the door._

_She hadn't hesitated to greet her visitor, and she hadn't been disappointed. Her sister had been standing at the door, all tentative smiles and long, dark hair._

_The swell of emotion inside her chest had been too great to fathom much else. She'd invited her guardian in and ignored the protests. They hadn't seen each other since Nos Astra. Niceties could wait._

_They'd made a show of unpacking some of her belongings, but had soon turned to the wine instead. She'd been eager to share some of her asari-made _elasa, _so they decided to take a break. Maybe she'd imagined the troubled crease of her sister's brow when she'd asked how her sister and her sister's associates were doing. She hadn't expected answers, but her sister wasn't immune to slips, so she had listened with rapt attention when her sibling moved to speak._

_Guardian angels had never been perfect creatures, but she'd still been glad to call this one her own._

* * *

_A gleaming Carnifex had been kept concealed at his side. He'd thumbed its trigger numerous times and familiarized himself with the cold alloy against the lines of his palm. It had been a strange sensation. The metal had been hard and unforgiving. It prickled his nerves and left him feeling incriminated when he had yet to do anything wrong._

_A torrent of uncertainty had welled within him. He'd only grown to hate the feeling more, but this was what he'd come to do. He'd had no choice._

_Or so he had thought._

_He'd warded off a headache by pinching at his forehead. The uneasy feeling in his gut had twisted and uncoiled numerous times by then, but it stilled altogether when his target appeared._

_His breath had caught. Colors flashed behind his eyes. Lines sharpened. He'd glanced up to gauge whether anyone had become suspicious._

_No one had. The target moved past him, unhurried._

_His body had already begun to move, its feet darting over a smooth-worn floor. His targets had neared the entryway. The looming red shape at the corner of his vision had become a krogan, and then a turian, and –_

_- and the best laid plans, of which his had never been, crumbled when someone called his name. His hand had jerked and squeezed the trigger twice on instinct, and the resulting wail of gunfire trilled a note of pain throughout his head. It had been sloppy, sure, and he'd been shaken, but the thundering _whoomph _of a krogan body falling had been good enough for him._

_The recoil had shocked him back to his body and away in pursuit of his target, who'd since run inside the nearest apartment. They'd both been cornered and caught, but at least he'd be in control of one life, even if it wouldn't be his own._

_The turian had already fallen into a kneel. A small sliver of pleasure, mixed with greater amounts of disgust and horror, had assailed him at the sight. He chose to ignore it._

_And so he'd found himself exuding far more grandeur than he'd felt when he pressed the barrel of a pistol to the back of his target's head. He'd then looked up at the person – or persons – who had botched his job to find him, and when he did, his pulse had chilled._

_The sunset was long gone, but it seemed the ghost was still around._

* * *

_She'd called him Mister Bailey when they'd first been introduced._

_He'd acted flustered and told her "Captain" or "just Bailey" would do fine. Before her sister had left once more for parts unknown, she'd explained that there were few people she could trust. The captain – Bailey – had been listed as a (grudging) exception. She'd taken her sisters words to heart. _

_Once niceties had been exchanged, Bailey had said that he had someone else to introduce her to. It had been an unexpected turn, but she'd been curious. She hadn't been prepared to find herself standing in the 27th floor lobby looking up at a teal-scaled drell male._

_Bailey explained that this drell was the son of one of her sister's associates. He'd made mention that this individual had once "run with the wrong crowd," but that was being "corrected." He'd said the drell might "squirm a bit" and not to be surprised if she found him unfriendly because he was "something of an ass" and still dealing with "personal issues"._

_The disclaimer had been alarming. But when she'd looked at the drell, her concerns had faded. He'd looked just as uncomfortable as her, if not infinitely more-so. She'd smiled and nodded her head at him, deciding to give the drell a chance. She would need allies, if not friends._

_"You work here?" she'd asked. The drell frowned. She'd never seen one before, not in person. The plates of his face moved in odd ways._

_"Oh, he works here," Bailey had chuckled._

_The drell's frown only deepened. She would always recall that frown. It was a funny thing to remember about someone._

_"I'm Oriana," she'd ventured. She'd kept her hands laced in front of her body out of respect for his personal space, and because she'd been unfamiliar with drell custom._

_"Kolyat," he'd said at last. The name had been spoken as more of a mumble._

"_He's just settling in to his own place, too," Bailey chipped in. "Near your block. Not a suite by a long shot, but it's better than the old community lodging."_

_The way the captain had drawled out 'community lodging' gave her the impression that it was a fancy way of saying 'jail cell,' and if the venomous look the drell shot the captain afterward had been anything to go by, she'd been correct._

_Yet, despite everything, she'd still found herself smiling._

"_It's nice meeting you," she'd said._

"_Feel free to drop in," the C-Sec officer offered. "Can't guarantee I'll be here, but Sergeant Haron or someone else will. Maybe even this guy." He'd jerked his head toward Kolyat._

_The drell had grunted: "Maybe."_

_Their eyes met. It had been brief; blue on black. When Kolyat looked away, she'd turned to Bailey._

"_I'll keep that in mind."_

It'd been a start.


	2. On Your Mind

**REVISED: **September 20th, 2013

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, friends and strangers alike. Thank you for your support and encouragement!

And a special thanks to my friend, Pups, for his help with this chapter. :)

* * *

**Scene One**

On Your Mind

* * *

Every species behaves differently. Most of these behaviors are harmless. Some even make sense.

Some do not make sense. When Kolyat Krios squatted in front of a vending machine located outside of the 26th floor's shipping warehouse, he decided _then_ and _there_ that of all the species in the galaxy, not even the _hanar_ could touch the human race when it came to bizarre behavior. At least hanar were aware of how difficult it was to relate to them. Humans didn't even communicate in bioluminescence and he _still_ had trouble understanding them.

"_Tupari!"_ the vending machine sang. _"It's good for you!"_

But at least they weren't responsible for _this._

Kolyat resisted the urge to shove his omni-tool through the machine's innards. These stupid things had optical triggers that were far more sensitive than they had any right to be. Oh, not to mention they were _annoying_. Fortunately, his shoulders were sore enough as it was, and while his temperament was only one notch above sour he had more discipline than that.

So far, anyway.

"I seem to have come at a bad time," the individual behind him said. The almost inaudible hum of his translator-aid filtered through his head once he stood to stretch his legs.

He wanted to say _yes_ but in truth his shift was nearly over, so instead he settled on schooling his features into something resembling 'far from happy but not altogether irritated._' _For drell this meant narrowing eyes and twitching the brow, but hell if he knew if the human would even pick up on it.

"What did you want?" he rasped when he gave the Tupari machine another check-over. No signs of vandalism. The credit-chit slider was only slightly chipped with one scuff mark at the corner. Someone being rough with their chit, maybe, or someone trying (and failing) to extract the internal chit-sensor with some type of crude implement.

"I was wondering if we could share some _elasa_ sometime," the human behind him answered without missing a beat. "Consider it a housewarming? But it's fine if you say no."

"And if I say no?"

"In that case-"

"_Tupari!"_ the vending machine interrupted. _"It brings your ancestors back from the grave!"_

There was a beat of silence. Kolyat stifled a contemptuous huff and rapped his knuckles against the top of the Tupari machine before swiveling to face the human. She appeared more amused than he was; her eyebrows lifted, causing fine lines to sweep across the pale skin of her brow. It had taken him days to get used to how pliant human faces were, or how naked they looked without scales to offset their soft flesh.

"Pretentious, isn't it?" she laughed.

"It's annoying," he said with a pinch of his brow plates. He wanted to be further annoyed by how casually she was taking this confrontation but couldn't muster the energy to do so.

He must be more tired than he thought.

"Anyway," she began again. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled a curving alien smile. "It's fine if you say no. I don't know if drell have a similar tradition."

Kolyat crossed his arms and felt the pull of his uniform at the back of his shoulders. It was a needlessly defensive posture but old habits died hard.

"Housewarming," he repeated, trying out the odd phrase. It sounded thick on his tongue.

"Close enough," she confirmed. By this time Kolyat had moved out of the Tupari machine's detection radius and was standing in front of some stacked shipping containers. The human followed him at a respectful distance and stopped just below the luminous banner that scrolled above the warehouse doors.

From the other side of the doors, a salarian manager glanced up from a shipping manifest. "Krios," he greeted. "Get done sorting early today?"

"The A-level containers are all ready for the lifts," the drell confirmed while rubbing at a partially sleeved bicep. Scales tugged at the soft pads of his fingertips as he kneaded the flesh with a suppressed wince. He didn't mind physical labor but it wasn't something he was used to - not that he was a whiner.

"Good, good," the salarian said. "I appreciate the help. Wish we could get some dedicated mechs for jobs like this, but you know how it is." He turned his attention back to the datapad and blinked his lower eyelids twice. "I'll log your hours and send Sergeant Haron a copy. Don't forget to sign off on it back at the lobby."

Kolyat opened his mouth to say something but then changed his mind. It wasn't worth it. He was tired, and snark cost energy. Bailey would be stunned._ Self restraint, son? You sick?_

...And now he was starting to hear imaginary Baileys talking in his head.

Yep. He was tired.

Not to mention the human was watching. Her blue eyes – small, almost comically so compared to his – shifted from him to the salarian. The corner of her dark mouth tugged in that malleable human way that Kolyat was fast growing familiar with. To her credit, she said nothing. Kolyat waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and moved toward the front of the warehouse lobby.

"Whatever," he mumbled.

"I'll see you later, Krios," the salarian piped without looking up or acknowledging that he had heard. "And Miss...?" This time he _did_ look up, if only for a split second.

"Oriana," the human answered. "Um - Just Oriana, please."

"Oriana. So long, then."

Oriana caught up with him outside the 26th floor terminal. An uneasy feeling curled in his chest when he locked eyes with her. It felt awkward. Even his _arms_ felt awkward in the limp way they fell at his sides. He didn't particularly want to talk with her but his conscience kept him from breaking for cover. It seemed like they were always running into each other.

And it _seemed_ like he was getting used to her company. That thought wrested a sigh from him.

"You must get that a lot," she observed once she'd moved to stand by his side.

"Get what?" The pale flicker of his pupils tracked the sweep of her dress as she came to a stop. She was quite a bit shorter than him, so he had to tilt his head to keep an eye on her.

"You know. '_Don't forget,_" she answered while doing a weird thing with her fingers. _Air quotes?_

Huh. Well, she had a point. But what was he supposed to say? _'Yeah, that is kind of a dumb thing to say to a drell'_?

"Why should they care?" he grumped instead while flapping a scaled hand at the general _they_. _He_ sure didn't care. It was a mutual exchange of not caring. That was how he liked it.

Oriana didn't seem phased by the outburst. "You'd think..." Her voice trailed off into a murmur before her expression brightened. "It's a little funny."

Kolyat had every intent of informing her just how Not Funny it was, so it was more than a little disconcerting when his mouth instead said: "At least _you_ caught it."

She winked. It was one of the weirder human expressions he'd seen, considering their limited number of eyelids. "How could I forget?" she teased. "Perfect memory."

Kolyat's mouth felt suddenly dry. He poked at the back of his flat teeth with his tongue and swallowed air.

...Gods. He never knew how to respond to her and she was _looking_ at him and waiting on just that: a response. A silence fell between them, short and sharp.

He had to say something. Some observation about humans, maybe. Or a joke.

Wait. No, no. He didn't do jokes. He didn't do spontaneous conversations either. And this was why!

"What did you want?" he blurted.

_(– he stands – a bright blue banner specks the corner of his eyes and he nictates, studying the machine before him – straight angles, flat alloy, the buttons glow - "What did you want?" he asks her while noticing a scuff.)_

...Oh.

Right.

If Oriana noticed the repeat then she didn't show it. "Maybe I should have asked this first," she ventured and looked uncertain for the first time. It was a very subtle change, but even the smallest brow furrow could speak volumes to a drell. "Do you drink?"

Kolyat raised an eye ridge. Oriana's slip of confidence boosted his own and he stood straighter as a result. She appeared to take this as an affirmation because she continued, "Do you like _elasa_?"

"I've never had it," he admitted, and felt some of his newfound confidence deflate. As far as he knew it was a fruity asari drink. He didn't do fruity asari drinks.

Did he?

"If it makes you feel better, I've never had hanar brewed beer," Oriana said with another curving smile. "It must be a lot stronger."

Kolyat's gaze darted to the side as he felt another memory brush at the back of his mind. A numb feeling warmed the back of his neck and he nictated his secondary eyelids at the unexpected strength of it.

_(Pain lurches in gut as the edge of a basin digs under his ribs – a hand at his back rubs circles, warm against his bare back – he vomits again, spitting out bile as it sours and burns – "At least your father isn't here to see this," she murmurs as tears of shame blur his eyes – another lurch and he doubles over, stomach swimming as she wipes his mouth with soft cloth. "Next time ask what's in the cup before you drink it.")_

"It is," he replied when the memory faded. "This is..." His voice wavered. "...Some kind of human tradition?"

"When someone moves into a new place they'll sometimes host a party and invite friends or neighbors, and these people will give that person gifts." She must have noticed his dubious expression because her smile spread into a small grin, one that flashed her teeth. "Honestly? I have some _elasa_ left over and I'm not much of a solo drinker."

Kolyat frowned as the possible implications ran wild in his mind. "Did you do this when _you_ moved?" he demanded while the scales on the back of his neck bunched. It made the skin beneath his collar itch but he made no move to scratch it. If this was about _pity_ then he wanted no part of it.

"I did," Oriana answered. Her voice was softer than normal and her focus seemed to drift to the floor. It might not be perfect like his own, but Kolyat knew the look of someone who was lost in a memory. The muscles of his arm loosened when Oriana looked back up to him, and her eyes were clear again. "My sister and I shared a few drinks when I first got here. It's what gave me the idea."

Her words were even;_ sincere_. Kolyat felt the back of his throat flutter when he sighed and rubbed at his temple. The thick, plated scales there dulled the sensation but the pressure was good enough.

"I..." He had no reason to say no, but he had no reason to say yes either. But what would either answer gain him? Bailey had been more than happy to point out on more than one occasion – and in far _blunter_ terms – that _forward thinking_ was not one of Kolyat's strengths.

But he'd known Oriana for more than a month now. They saw each other all the time, as much as the Wards permitted: him on his way to some service call, her on her way to some transit station. They passed each other in the C-Sec lobby sometimes. She'd run into him here by the warehouse a couple of times. Hell, they'd even been stuck under the 27th floor scanner together on one or two occasions...

_(– blue eyes flash orange under the scanning grid as it hums – he points at the turian by the controls and asks, "Every time, Haron? __**Every time**__ I enter the lobby?" – the sergeant laughs, pays him no mind – beside him she tries not to smile but he sees it reflected in the glass when she turns away – her voice, amused, carries through the hum: "It only takes a minute, Kolyat. It's not that bad.")_

A clipped chime from his omni-tool cut Kolyat's response short. The sudden interruption seemed to invite the rest of the Wards into their personal bubble as the air filled with the murmur of crowds and the ring of kiosks. Oriana feigned disinterest (out of respect for his privacy, perhaps) and looked out toward the 26th level's hub as she interlaced her hands below her stomach. Kolyat half-turned to the side and triggered the device with his palm; a moment later the omni-tool hummed to life and as he tilted the viewspace towards him. The familiar orange glow was a stark contrast to the splotchy scales of his arm, but it was a tiny scrawl of text that caught his eye.

It was a reminder from his parole officer. Anticipation spiked in his stomach as Kolyat deactivated the omni-tool. Just like that, his thoughts were elsewhere.

He was on his last cycle of service before his third evaluation. If he showed well he would qualify for direct employ by Bailey. All he had to do was turn in today's hours, maybe log a few more...

Gods knew all the shifts he'd spent scrubbing up elcor piss at the Dark Star had to amount to _something_.

"Was it important?" his human companion inquired. The muscles behind Kolyat's frill twitched when her voice startled him back to the present.

"Yeah. I have to go." Oriana's face softened in understanding, but for some reason he felt compelled to add: "I have to turn in some things and... see about some stuff."

Things._ Stuff_. His situation wasn't a _secret_ but discussing it out loud and in public was nonexistent on the list of things he'd like to do that day. Or ever.

"I shouldn't have kept you," Oriana apologized. She sounded genuinely contrite. It was a perfect opportunity for him to explain that he was as much at fault as she was but his pride, shriveled and flaccid as it was, prevented him from doing so. The objection came out as a muffled _nrghmmphhrr_ noise instead.

Fortunately said noise was beyond a human's range of hearing, so all Oriana saw was his curt nod. Kolyat had learned long ago that incorporating inter-species body language made communication much easier.

"I'll see you later then," she said before easing out into the crowd. "It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah," he mumbled, half-listening and half-wondering if he meant it. His jaw tightened when he realized that he did. Almost.

_Almost._

It wasn't until she was lost to sight that Kolyat realized he hadn't asked what she'd been doing on the 26th floor to begin with.

"_I know you're weakening,"_ a mechanized voice boasted from nowhere. _"Tupari is on your mind!"_

Kolyat whirled around to glower at the salarian manager, who at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed while he retrieved a Tupari Sport from the vending machine.

"Do you want one?" he asked the drell after an awkward pause.

Kolyat's scowl deepened.

"_Give iiiin..."_

Gods as his witness, as soon as he got a gun that was going to be the _first_ thing he was going to shoot.

* * *

_Kolyat,_

_I hope you don't mind the note. Or the drinks._

_We didn't get to finish our conversation the other day. I thought about it, and decided I didn't want to put you on the spot. Don't make that face. You know it's true._

_I decided to send some _elasa _anyway. Try it out and see if you like it. Maybe one day when we've got more time I'll stop by. Don't worry, you don't have to let me in!_

_Hope you don't mind that I knew what address to send this to. A little bird told me._

_ADDT: That's a human idiom._

_ADDT: It was Bailey._

_See you around,_

_Oriana_

* * *

The Wards never slept. They had no concept of day or night. Time passed in cycles and was regulated by galactic standard hours, but in the back of Kolyat's mind his biological clock was still counting the sunsets of Kahje that he could no longer see.

Nearly three of these had passed when he found the package secured outside his apartment door.

At first the sight had chilled him and conjured up dark memories and even darker thoughts. It had been a package that had brought him here and nearly cost him everything. It had also saved him, eventually, but that was something he was not prepared to admit just yet.

He approached this new parcel with a great deal of caution, all of which transformed into embarrassment once he studied the message that had been bundled with it. It was from Oriana. Not left by a ghost... just Oriana.

He brought the offering inside with him and set it on one of the counters. It looked nearly as awkward as he felt, sitting there like a yellow-spotted varren in the corner of the room, so he wasted little time dressing down from his new standard-issue C-Sec uniform to see what was inside. The barren air of the apartment soothed the hardened slope of his shoulders as he wrested the shirt over his head and peeked at the package from across the kitchen table. It hadn't moved or exploded yet, which was as good a sign as any.

It was a stupid thing to feel, but he couldn't help the stab of anxiety that twisted his gut when he moved to open it. He was not going to find a holo of a human child and a lifetime's worth of regret. He _was_ going to find some fruity asari drink. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kolyat stopped to fold his shirt. The air against his bare torso felt icy and it wasn't due to the temperature. He frowned at his own nervousness and stacked the uniform next to a hamper before rounding on the counter and the thing still sitting on top of it.

The interior of his apartment was dead silent. The noise of him popping open the container nearly made him wince, but the discomfort soon transformed into curiosity when he removed two untouched cylinders of un-distilled _elasa _and set them on the countertop. Gods, how much of this did she _have_?

...Should he try it?

The smart thing to do would have been to wait until he had some proper food in his stomach - gods knew the crap from the dispensers in the 27th floor lobby barely counted as food - but he was _curious_. If he weren't so disagreeable he might have even been excited.

Kolyat unwound a cylinder and sniffed at its lip, recoiling as the fumes burned the inside of his nose. The reinforced heels of his boots thumped across the floor as he looked for a glass to pour a bit in. When he returned he tipped the _elasa_ over and poured half a shot – just enough to get a taste – but as he stared down at the shimmering liquid with the cylinder still suspended in one hand, it didn't seem like enough.

Oriana drank it. Tiny, frilly, weird little alien Oriana. He was not a coward. Spurred by the thought and the memory of that dainty human face, he proceeded to _**triple**_ the amount. Setting the cylinder aside, he raised the cup to his bottom lip and cinched his nostrils before letting the contents wash over his tongue.

What followed could best be described over a kitchen sink, because that's where Kolyat found himself moments later as he proceeded to spit out anything and everything that was inside his mouth.

"Son of a _bitch_," he swore while swallowing back a gag. No _wonder _he'd never tried this stuff. It tasted like _shit_.

While Kolyat had been calling this apartment his personal residence for weeks now, he had never bothered to commit things like the kitchen appliances to memory. But in that moment it felt like he knew nothing and no one as intimately as he knew the bottom of his kitchen sink, and with a grimace he finished washing off his tongue and teeth with water from the filter.

Okay. In retrospect having Oriana _not_ present for this was a very, very good thing.

Gag.

_Ugh._

It would have been easy to pour the rest of it down the sink, but something kept Kolyat from doing so. It was only when he snapped the lid back onto the first cylinder that the reason occurred to him.

_'Maybe one day when we've got more time I'll stop by.'_

Wiping the corner of his mouth, the drell allowed himself only a small frown as he moved the remaining _elasa _to one of the kitchen's overhanging shelves. _She_ seemed to like it, so _she_ was more than welcome to drink it whenever she damn well pleased. He'd be more than happy to get it out for her if she ever stopped by and he could be bothered to remember it was there.

_(Dark hair halos pale skin as she turns, stops – blue dress uncurling as she looks at him, blue eyes dark on white – "You know. 'Don't forget.'")_

It wasn't like he had a choice, but maybe that wasn't so bad.


	3. Symphony No 5

**REVISED: **September 20, 2013

* * *

**Scene Two**

Symphony No. 5

* * *

Hearing about the destruction wasn't the same as seeing it first-hand.

Of course, Oriana Lawson couldn't even do _that _much, because by the time she'd arrived most of the damage to the Citadel had been repaired. Tayseri Ward still sported the worst wounds, but from her comfortable seat on a comfortable couch in a somewhat comfortable apartment that belonged to a somewhat charming 'friend' (well, a _sort of '_friend', or maybe a _we're mutually understood to be friends, or close to it, but pointing it out might still be awkward_ 'friend',) located somewhere in Zakera Ward, it was hard to imagine.

Oriana reached up, rubbed the tip of one finger across her lower left eyelid, and then looked up. She was sitting alone on a cream-colored couch with a few minutes to herself to spare. After checking to make sure she hadn't smeared her mascara, she turned her attention back to the computer terminal in front of her.

_Just a little peek, _she reasoned_._

The first time she'd been invited to her friend's apartment had been something of a fluke. She'd only stopped by as an excuse to check out the neighboring sector of residences and to see if the package she'd sent a week earlier had been received. She hadn't expected to find her friend at home, and when he'd opened the door, a mutual exchange of _awkward_ had ensued between them.

She'd quickly pointed out (after several more seconds of _awkward_) that she'd been on her way home after touring the Larathos Institute over in Kithoi Ward. The transit station was just past their residence blocks, and since she knew his apartment number she'd decided to see if she could find his on her way back. You know, just for curiosity's sake.

Her friend's impression had gone from _you are a stalker _to _you are marginally less of a stalker_ after the explanation, and just as she'd excused herself (because by then even she was a little embarrassed,) he'd done something unexpected: he'd asked if she wanted to come in.

Maybe it was residual hanar courtesy. He was hard to read sometimes, and his alien face only made doing so more difficult. Whatever the reason was that had caused him to extend the invitation, well, she hadn't wanted to make her friend feel even more out of place by saying no thanks. So, she'd accepted.

One of the first things he'd done was shove a glass of _elasa _at her. Oriana had thought that was moving a little _fast, _but when it became apparent that he had some personal vendetta against the drink she hadn't thought much of it. Every species had their quirks, including hers. When she'd asked him how he'd liked it, he had deigned not to answer. When she'd offered to take it back, he had refused and squirreled the rest back in the cabinet from whence it had emerged.

She might never understand him.

The memory almost made her smile. Her smile was interrupted by a small stab of jealousy when Oriana logged into the extranet and began to browse. His signal was better than hers. C-Sec connections, maybe? Or had he bought a jack of some kind? Lucky bastard... he probably didn't even use his terminal that much.

Oriana's fingers blurred while she input some key words and conducted an extranet search.

SRCH: EXT: BATTLE [OF THE] CITADEL  
ADV SRCH: WARDS, TAYSERI, CASUALTY RATE  
MEDIA: ARTICLES

The search engine pinged.

CIT NEWS/ SYSTEMS ALLIANCE SHAKEN BY HEAVY LOSSES...

CIT NEWS/ CIVILIAN CASUALTIES UNKNOWN: COUNCIL REP CITES CURRENT ESTIMATES AS "HORRIFIC"...

A yawn interrupted her reading and she blinked it away. There was very little about the Battle of the Citadel that she didn't already know, but considering recent events she'd felt the need to brush up on her history.

ALT SRCH: EXT: CMDR. SHEPARD  
ADV SRCH: SPECTRE, DEATH  
MEDIA: ANY

There was a lot to look at. For a moment Oriana almost forgot that she wasn't on her own terminal in her own apartment. A soft shuffling noise from the back rooms brought her back to reality and she glanced up again, swiveling to make sure she was still alone. An empty dining area and short stair-step were all that greeted her.

On her first few visits she'd tried not to touch anything out of respect for her friend. It had proven to be much easier than she'd anticipated. There was nothing in the apartment to _touch_; no mess or clutter of any kind. Ghostly images of her own apartment had come to mind with a clarity that might have even impressed a drell. It was, er... not nearly so clean.

She shouldn't have assumed that _every_ young male bachelor lived in charming squalor, much less one of a different species. Living on Illium had exposed her to a number of alien cultures, but she was still at a disadvantage when it came to drell. Many of their social norms were a mystery to her, so Oriana had spent a good portion of her early visits skirting furniture and trying not to look as conspicuous as she'd felt. When Kolyat Krios hadn't chased her out into the street the first time she'd taken it upon herself to sit in a chair, or lean her foot against a table, she'd dropped the sensitive act and made herself at home. It had been a delicate process, but this frame of mind had eventually extended to the drell's public extranet terminal, which Oriana was currently putting to use.

Oriana's gaze drifted over to an icon at the corner of the terminal window. If her friend had any _interesting _extranet sites bookmarked they would be saved there. Her finger twitched, causing the cursor to jump.

No. No, she was a better person than that.

The cursor moved over the icon with agonizing slowness. The icon lit up when she hovered, its glowy edges practically throbbing at her when it was highlighted.

_No._

Oriana sighed and the cursor drifted away. Maybe some other time. Like five minutes from now, if she wasn't caught before then.

She opened a new window to distract herself.

ALT SRCH: EXT: DRELL  
ADV SRCH: CULTURE  
MEDIA: ARTICLES, VIDS

The search engine pinged.

The sound of something opening and closing resonated from the back rooms.

Oriana hesitated. Her friend had never said she _couldn't_ use his terminal, but then again, he'd never said she _could_. It had never come up in conversation. It was a... technicality.

She ran her tongue along her lower lip. With one ear listening for oncoming footsteps, she exited all tabs and compulsively wiped the extranet search on drell as an afterthought.

"Are you still there?"

Oriana perked up at the voice and pushed the terminal away. The words were raspy, almost textural.

The voice continued, "Just say something if-"

"Yes," she cut him off. She raised her voice and crossed her legs. "I'm still here."

There was a pause.

"Why?"

Yelling back and forth across an apartment wasn't Oriana's idea of a proper conversation, so she switched tactics. "What about some music?"

There was another pause, but shorter this time. "_What?_"

In answer, Oriana reached for the audio interface blinking against the nearby wall. Names and faces scrolled beneath her fingertips: _Brahms, Chopin, Puccini, Shubert_...

_Carl Nielsen._

A smile lit her painted lips as she directed Nielsen's Symphony No. 5 to the apartment's sound system. Silence fell away to the warmth of rising string instruments; Oriana settled into the sofa to listen, her fingers drumming against the seam of her civilian dress. For a moment she regretted not bringing her violin, but lugging it across half of Zakera Ward wasn't high on her list of priorities.

The mournful wane of woodwinds was interrupted by the gravelly voice from the next room. "What is that?"

"Carl Nielsen's Symphony No. 5, _Adagio non troppo_," she answered without hesitation. Dark hair slipped against her forehead as she tilted her head toward the general direction of the voice. One of her eyebrows raised. "Do you like it?" Although she couldn't see him, Oriana could still imagine the pinched expression of her companion as he no doubt wondered if his translator had glitched up.

Violas joined the woodwinds when Kolyat Krios appeared around the corner at last. Oriana pretended to be interested in her cuticles before raising her gaze to meet his, hoping to enrapture him to the beauty of Nielsen's Fifth with an enticing smile.

"It's... tolerable," he mumbled. Oriana resisted the urge to roll her eyes and turned back to the interface, her short hair sweeping the nape of her neck as she shook her head. _Tolerable?_

Before he would have said it was crap and made her turn it off. So they _were_ making progress!

"Do you ever listen to music?" she asked. "Every time I'm here this place is silent."

"I'm never here," he replied, defensive. She peeped at him over her shoulder.

"Never?"

"_Hardly_ ever," he corrected. The drell shot her an annoyed look. Or at least, that's what it looked like. She still found herself guessing at many of his expressions. "And when I am, _you're_ here, listening to..." One of his arms swept the room in a half-arc, his hand circling limply at nothing in particular. "_This._ Whatever this is."

"Nielsen's Fifth, if you were listening. Which you weren't. But if it bothers you, I can always turn it off." She motioned at the interface for emphasis.

Scales rippled as Kolyat furrowed his brow. His dark eyes trained on the human reclining on his sofa. "Why are you even here?" he asked, an accusatory lilt to his otherwise rasping voice.

Oriana gazed at him with what she hoped was innocence, her shoulders lifting and falling in tandem. "Because you invited me in?" she countered.

Kolyat opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it (restraint, Oriana observed – now this _was_ progress,) and stalked into the kitchen area. Her eyes followed the sweep of his tall back as he made a show of tossing some utensils into the apartment's compact washer.

"I haven't changed the pass code yet," was the half-hearted response.

Oriana crossed her legs and interlaced her fingers against a knee. "Mm-hmm."

Another minute passed and he'd still not asked her to turn the music off. She relaxed against the sofa and lowered the volume before turning her attention back to the drell. He was still milling about in the dining area, no doubt doing everything in his power to keep from looking at her. Allowing her into his apartment had been a big step for him. But now that he'd given the permission, he never seemed to know how to deal with it.

It was sort of cute.

"You said you were going to leave soon," she explained. He wasn't wearing his usual leather; he must have been changing. "I thought I'd stick around until then. But if you'd like-"

"It's fine," the drell spoke up, and then fell silent again. He seemed to be doing something at the sink now. The overhead light caught on the edge of the fins that lined his scalp, and Oriana found herself studying the broad patterns that streaked down his neck.

So he didn't mind her after all! That almost made the temptation to look at his extranet bookmarks feel justified. Snooping was always better coming from a friend you _liked_, right? Right? "Is that your new uniform?" she asked while uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. Kolyat's movements at the sink slowed. While her view was obscured, the movements of his arms seemed to indicate that he was cleaning dishes by hand. It was such a strange thing to watch, and far more traditional than Oriana was accustomed to. Didn't he ever use cleaning mechs?

"Yeah," he said. He half-turned, as though he was going to let her see what he was wearing, but then stopped. The light highlighting his face flickered as his secondary eyelids nictated once. Then, as though he'd changed his mind, he turned back around and shuffled awkwardly. "I work for Bailey now. Official uniform."

Oriana leaned forward and set her elbows against her knees. She could see him better now: he was clad in the familiar blue of Citadel Security personnel, with armored shoulder padding and reinforced ribbing at his sides. The belt at his waist had a holster, but she didn't see a weapon. His scales looked almost luminous against the deep navy of the fabric, and he looked even taller and broader... if that was possible.

_Not bad,_ she thought, but kept it to herself. Kolyat poked around in the sink, and if she didn't know any better, she would have thought he was... embarrassed?

Something caught her eye. She pointed at it when she thought Kolyat was looking. "Do you still have to wear that?"

"Wear-?" Kolyat stopped and looked at a bright blue vest that sat propped against a wall. His face turned an unusual hue before he started scrubbing more furiously at the dishes he was cleaning. "I don't know," he snapped.

"It always looked a bit small on you..."

"It _is_."

"Aw. It's going to cover up your new uniform."

Kolyat shot her a dirty look. "Can we stop talking about the stupid community service vest?" he groused.

"I'm trying to sympathize, you know."

Kolyat puffed his frill and resumed ignoring her in favor of doing the dishes. Oriana couldn't help but feel amused. She hadn't caught him wearing the vest that often, but whenever she did, he always looked so puffy and uncomfortable.

"Have you heard from your father lately?" she asked, hoping to provoke him into acknowledging her presence. It worked; he swiveled to face her, his narrow face unreadable. The sterile light of the apartment caught on the glint of his pale pupils. A tiny sliver of... some indescribable emotion crept up her spine at the contact. He was so alien sometimes.

"No," was his answer, short and clipped as everything he said concerning his parent. Oriana furrowed her brow.

"Not yet," he amended after a second's pause. His broad shoulders dipped. Oriana kept her approval in check – she'd learned long ago that Kolyat's relationship with his father was a topic to be treated with care as well as caution, and she didn't want him to take it the wrong way. Knowledge of Kolyat's father issues were something she'd kept under wraps for over a month now. Not that she knew _details_, only that they existed.

_If anyone asks, especially him, you didn't hear it from me, _Bailey had told her.

"I got another e-mail from my sister," she ventured. Kolyat seemed to relax even further at the topic change. "Things are..." Oriana felt herself trail off. She drew her elbows back up to rest against her knee and propped her chin in her palms.

"She didn't tell me everything," she continued. "I didn't expect her to, but I can read between the lines. Whatever happened that made them relocate me, it was big."

Her elbows eased back down her legs as she straightened. "But at least they're alive," she finished. Her words were quiet, almost lost to the backdrop of violins. The clink of silverware was gone. Kolyat had descended from the stairs that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living quarters.

Oriana smoothed the fabric at her waist and tried not to dwell over the subtext and half-truths that had littered Miranda's last e-mail. Maybe her sister had _wanted_ her to discern what she couldn't say outright. Maybe Kolyat had gotten similar treatment from his father in their last correspondence.

Maybe he was just as frustrated as she was sometimes.

She withdrew from her thoughts when a weight caused the cushions to shift. Kolyat had sat down at the opposite end. He said nothing, but his presence was reassuring. Oriana let the back of her neck hit the sofa as her eyes wandered over the sterile white of the ceiling.

She remembered the last time she'd seen Miranda in person, after she'd first moved to the Citadel. _The situation has changed,_ her sister had explained when they'd sat in her apartment. _We've managed something extraordinary, but not without cost._ She'd needed to know Oriana was safe. There were people who knew about her now, people who Miranda no longer felt could be wholly trusted with her protection. They needed her somewhere where they – Miranda and Shepard – could keep a closer eye on her.

It seemed that guardian angels never slept.

And so Oriana had been pointed to Captain Bailey, and then to Kolyat, and had been told that he, too, had a connection through his father, Thane Krios. It was something they had in common. They should connect if possible, if only to have each other as contacts should anything go wrong.

An orange glow lit up the edge of Oriana's vision. She glanced over and saw Kolyat checking something on his omni-tool. He seemed engrossed by the holographic panels, and Oriana was tempted to smile at the familiar sight.

It didn't take a genius to realize that a "normal" life had been shoved to the back-burner, at least for the time being. Now she could only go through the motions of a normal life, always wondering if she could or should adjust. Always wondering what her sister had gotten into this time... Schooling kept Oriana occupied, but it still felt like she knew too much.

"Do you ever think about it?" she asked abruptly.

Kolyat looked up. "About?"

"Them. Being out there. Wherever they are."

"Them..." Kolyat frowned and looked away. "I don't know why it matters."

"You don't think it matters?" Oriana couldn't believe that.

"I don't think about it at all."

Oriana _really_ couldn't believe that.

"Did you know that your public record still has you living on Kahje?"

That tidbit of information appeared to startle the larger drell. "What do you mean, public record?"

"I mean your extranet trail. I did some digging the other day..." Oriana gestured at his extranet terminal for emphasis. When Kolyat's brow plates shot up, her own eyes widened. "Not on your computer!" she explained with a half-laugh. (Not that time, anyway. _Cough_.) "On mine. And my records end after my move from Illium." She stopped to chew on her bottom lip. "If you try looking any deeper, you get a bunch of reference loops and errors. I bet the same is true for you."

"What are you trying to say?" Kolyat asked, though the way his brows curved seemed to indicate he already had a good idea.

"I'm saying that someone - or someones - has been cleaning up after us. Everything before we came here. Moving files, editing, wiping, altering permissions..." Oriana found herself staring at Kolyat's still-lit omnitool, though she'd glanced back up to his face shortly after. "It's like we start, but then we just stop."

Kolyat's expression was unusually thoughtful. Oriana felt herself sink back into the sofa and brushed strands of hair from her eyes. She then continued, her voice soft: "It's like we don't exist." She felt her fingers tug at a few stray locks of hair in thought. "I recognize Miranda's handiwork. She must have a reason..."

Oh, well. At least she and Kolyat could Not Exist together.

...It was a strangely comforting thought.

"Will you be staying?"

The familiar timbre of his voice roused Oriana from her thoughts. She blinked at the drell who was sitting a cushion away and raised her head, surprised at how easily she had drifted off. She must have been more comfortable than she'd realized. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yeah," Kolyat responded. He checked his omni-tool again and looked up when it flickered off. "I have to be present for a debrief."

"Sounds exciting," she said while looking him up and down. "You must be the only drell there. Don't you stand out?"

Kolyat chuffed deep in his chest, his lips curling. "I can be subtle."

Oriana grinned. "I'll believe it when I see it." Her hand reached out without a second's thought with her whole body inclining toward where Kolyat was sitting. Her touch lit upon his arm and he almost jumped; his secondary eyelids nictated rapidly.

"Listen," she continued, all too aware of his gaze on her and how she had no idea what thoughts were going on behind it. "I... Thanks. For listening. And I enjoy being here, talking to you. But if it ever gets to a point where you'd rather be alone..." Her hand fell away and she sidled back. "Well, you know."

For a split second Oriana wondered if she'd said the wrong thing, because Kolyat looked away. His gaze spanned the room, as though he were seeking something and not finding it. Another second passed, and the plates of his brow softened almost imperceptibly. Some overhead lighting caught on his irises and she almost thought she saw a flash of green.

"I know," he said, his voice an echo. His gaze darted back to her with a flick of his eyelids.

Had that been a memory?

"You were right," the drell finished. The words were so low that Oriana almost didn't hear them.

"I was?" Sure, Oriana loved being right, and she was rarely wrong. But she also liked knowing what she was being right about.

Kolyat blinked all four of his eyelids. He appeared almost startled, but quickly collected himself. "What you said," he muttered while looking away again. "It's...quiet."

The silence that fell afterward only served to emphasize his words. Oriana threaded her fingers together. "It felt the same way after my sister left," she ventured. "And now that I'm living alone... That's one reason I love music."

She wasn't sure why she'd decided to divulge that, only that it had felt appropriate. And while neither of them had moved there was no mistaking the sudden tension that rippled off Kolyat in tiny waves. Oriana looked at him through a few strands of dark hair and pressed her lips together.

It would be so easy to dig deeper, to press the conversation and try to see what it was that made him tick. Captain Bailey had been vague on so many details. Oriana knew about the relationship Kolyat had with his father, to some extent, and she knew who his father was, but there had been little mention beyond that. There had been nothing about another parent, or friends, or even possible siblings. She had little idea of what he might have left behind on Kahje or even why he'd left.

It would be so easy... but it wasn't her place, and it wasn't the time. The temptation came and went. Oriana felt herself relax, and she noticed Kolyat was studying her.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," he said.

"Like what?" Damn, her attention was spotty today. That was almost two _What?_s in a row.

"Your music."

"Oh," she laughed. "There goes my offer of a private _concerto_."

Kolyat nictated again before pulling himself up to stand. It was only then that Oriana got a good look at his new C-Sec uniform. From her sitting position, and taking into account Kolyat's impressive height, Oriana also found herself at eye level with a number of interesting things. These things may or may not have included a thick torso that slunk down into a very real waist made only more noticeable by two uniformed bands that ran down from his security belt.

Well, then.

At some point her brain reminded her that it is impolite to stare, although it had only been a second. Her eyes jerked up to meet his face and instead found the back of his striped head. He was already donning the service vest and heading towards the door and she breathed a sigh of relief. He must have missed her little slip. Unintentional? Maybe. That didn't make it any less awkward... or confusing.

"So, are you staying?" Kolyat was buckling a Carnifex at his hip as he spoke. When he noticed her looking at it, his shoulders slumped before tensing again. "It's for show."

It didn't have any thermal clips, then. "What, here?" she wondered. Had he ever let her stay in his apartment without him before? "How long will you be?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

Oriana stood and stretched, aware of his eyes tracking her movements as she wandered around a table and toward him. "No, I guess not. It's almost my sleep cycle." She tapped a finger against the delicate bone of her wrist. "I've got an orientation at the Kithoi institute to prepare for."

Kolyat nodded, a strangely human gesture, and holstered the handgun.

"Not that there's much to do here anywa- oh!" She backtracked to the audio system, having almost forgotten that it was still on. She smiled as she keyed the appropriate shut-down command. The interface winked off. "There."

When she turned back to him his lips were pressed taut. "Do I need to walk you or something?" he mumbled.

One of Oriana's slender eyebrows shot up into her bangs. "Walk me?"

Kolyat made an indiscernible noise. Oriana went up to him with one hand on her hip. "What, does the uniform bring out your chivalrous side?" He scowled but she cut him off with a grin and wave of her hand. "Kolyat, this is the apartment block, not the warehouse district. At most I'll be run over by an elcor."

He made that deep chuffing sound again and stalked toward the door. "I've seen them move pretty fast."

Oriana laughed as she shadowed him to the exit. When he keyed it open and glanced to her she could have sworn a smile flitted over his accented lips.

No. Impossible. Kolyat didn't smile, he sneered.

"What about you?" she urged. "Sure _you_ won't need help?"

"Not from you," the drell growled as he herded her out the door. "Go home."

Oriana slipped out with a flourish and threw Kolyat a playful wink. "Huh. Maybe it's not the uniform after all."

It might have been her imagination, but the dark coloration of Kolyat's frill seemed to flush a hotter color. He turned to input his apartment's lock code while muttering an untranslatable obscenity or two. By the time he was done Oriana was already out of sight, hands clasped at her abdomen as she hummed Haydn under her breath.

It didn't occur to her until she'd arrived back at her own apartment block and sat down in her own room, violin in hand, that she was still smiling.

* * *

_USERNAME: ORIANAL  
BUOY #245Z [TEMP] - EXTRANET ORDER HISTORY  
RECENT TRANSACTIONS:_

_VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Saren: A Hero Betrayed _

_VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Damaged: The Truth Behind the Citadel Crisis_

_VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Afraid of the Dark: Reapers, Collectors, and other Myths_

_VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Black Ops: The Secret Behind the Alliance Military, abridged_

_VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Spectres: Fact, Fiction and Theory_

_VIDEO DOWNLOAD: BODY LANGUAGE: CROSS-SPECIES CUES AND ETIQUETTE, VOL. 3_

_PURCHASE 3433-DA-203: Special Edition Blasto! Pajamas, HUMAN: FEMALE, SMALL_


	4. Shades of Blue

**REVISED: **September 21, 2013

I'd like to thank LunaMax1214 for her help with this chapter. :)

* * *

**Scene Three**

Shades of Blue

* * *

He'd done it only once before. But when one moment can be replayed a thousand times, does it still count as one?

_(He thumbs the trigger once, twice – cold alloy presses at the lines of his palm – )_

The world sharpened, lines upon lines upon outlines. He felt a twitch response, his nerves firing -

_( – his heart jerking, adrenaline, jaw tight set – )_

A hot flash shot up his arm and the lines upon lines collided together in his field of view -

_( – his hand jerks, squeezes the trigger – )_

A sharp _crack_ broke the silence and sent the lines scattering -

_( - a wail of gunfire trills a note of pain throughout his head – )_

Fractured shards of memory ground together like glass inside his head, all the pieces shifting and darting behind his eyes on well-worn paths. Color and shape fell away and reassembled in the echo that followed, just in time for Kolyat Krios to curse when he saw his shot go wide and miss the mark entirely.

Another fake heat sink clattered to the reinforced alloy at his feet. It rolled against the tip of his boot and stayed there. It was warm. The uncoiling feeling in his gut was cold.

What the hell was his problem?

The tips of his fingers prickled when he reloaded his practice gun. It felt like the metal was biting at him, as though it had judged him unfit to wield it. But that was ridiculous; it was just a gun, a cold lump of nothing. It couldn't see, think or betray. It did what he wanted. It had to. It didn't have a _choice_.

He fired again. The weapon kicked in his grip: one sharp, heavy _thump_ that sent the scales of his palm into an unpleasant pinch. The sharp feeling returned, and the world pulsed white-hot in relief -

_No._

The memories fled his mind, their shards reconnecting with a mental _snap_. For a split second Kolyat felt a sense of loss, but it vanished as well.

He'd missed again.

_Gods damn it._

The targeting drone continued its merry path around the C-Sec firing range. The miniature mech's chassis sported a series of minor cloaking modules, and the alloy that composed the floors and walls was dark and unreflective. It was nigh impossible to see until it cast a hologram, and those wouldn't last long – a few seconds at most before they dissipated in a flash of blue code, only to reappear elsewhere.

It wasn't the most convincing simulation, but it was one of the least complicated, and Kolyat couldn't be bothered to go searching for a dedicated tech to set him up with a better one. And from the looks of things, he'd done himself a favor. He couldn't hit _shit_.

The ejected heat sink was still sitting by his foot. He kicked it away in irritation and was unsurprised when the sound of it pinging off a guardrail left him just as unsatisfied as before. What made things worse was the stupid community service vest he was forced to wear. It was too small for him - something _certain people_ had pointed out already - and normally he removed it to do more physical work. He'd assumed C-Sec would take it back once his service hours were transferred to Bailey, but no one had brought it up, and so here he was, sulking about in security fatigues with a neon blue pad strapped to his chest.

_Pathetic_.

It didn't make any _sense_. Kolyat knew exactly how to use a gun. He could recall the proper grip and the perfect stance with a clarity that no other species could contest. _Knowing _wasn't an issue, but _doing_...

An alien sound startled Kolyat from his thoughts, and he swiveled to face it.

_("- put the gun down, son.")_

"You're getting better," a gravelly voice was saying. A familiar silhouette wearing Citadel Security armor stood in the doorway behind him.

Kolyat hesitated. He was torn between turning his back and ignoring the human or continuing to stand there looking like an idiot. The latter held little appeal, but the former didn't feel right, either. Kolyat settled for a half-turn so that he could fiddle with the pistol and glower moodily over his right shoulder.

"How long have you been here?" the drell demanded. When no answer was forthcoming, he chuffed: "Well?"

Captain Bailey approached the targeting range with measured steps. His lined face was tense with thought, evidenced by the way he pressed his lips together. Images of similar expressions worn by other humans flickered through Kolyat's mental databank, but they did nothing to tell him what the older man was thinking.

"Either you've been at it for a while now, or you jumped right to mode three difficulty," Bailey observed while the targeting drone flickered and reappeared elsewhere on the range. "You sure that was such a good idea?"

Kolyat felt the skin of his jaw ribbing inflame with embarrassment. His body turned, feigning confidence as he gestured in a random direction with the barrel of the gun. "I've done this before," he snapped.

"Yeah, I know." Bailey's voice lilted with amusement. "You didn't do a very good job."

The older man leaned his forearms against a guardrail and Kolyat took it as an opportunity to jab a finger in the general direction of the human's chest. "I took down a krogan," the drell contested, his voice coming out higher than he would have liked.

"And if my men hadn't jumped him after you ran inside, you would've been stuck in that apartment with your ass hanging out," Bailey snorted. "Do you really think he was going to _stay_ down?"

Kolyat ground his teeth together, silent.

"And what about C-Sec?" the captain continued. "The apartment was surrounded. Hell, what about Shepard?"

_(Siren lights dance patterns across the wall, capturing a familiar face –"They'll have snipers outside," his father says -)_

A flash of pain at the base of his neck reminded Kolyat that clenching one's jaw too hard is uncomfortable, so he twitched it loose with a curl of his lip. "I could have -"

Bailey's nonplussed expression made the words die in his throat. Kolyat wasn't even sure what the words had been. The captain was right. He couldn't have taken them all.

_Father _had been right.

Anger and shame bubbled deep inside the young drell's chest. The two emotions formed a noxious mixture that burned at the back of his eyes. Kolyat glanced away and fixed his focus on the targeting drone that was still materializing periodically across the range. He nictated both sets of eyelids once, even twice, but the sting remained.

"What did you want?" he demanded, eager to shift the topic. The gun hung loose and heavy in his hand. Gravity tugged it toward the floor; the weight of it felt far away, but with another blink of his large eyes, Kolyat regained his composure. "I know you didn't come down here just to see me."

Bailey pushed away from the guardrail with his forearms. "What if I did?"

Kolyat's pupils flickered under the furrowed crease of his brow. Bailey seemed to notice. His lined face eased into a grin.

"You're right," the human admitted. He folded his arms loosely against his chest. The skin of his bare forearms stark against the deep blues of the uniform he wore. "I didn't. I was checking on some contacts, making sure we were in for a new load of gear." He inclined his shoulders back in a short stretch. "Keeping in touch with the suits upstairs is part of the job."

Kolyat felt his features slacken in confusion. "Suits?"

Bailey's arms fell back to his sides. "Eh, you know. Our headquarters on the Presidium," he clarified.

Kolyat's frown returned. He wasn't privy to much, but even he was aware of the relationship the Wards had with the Presidium.

"Could be worse," Bailey continued. The officer watched the targeting drone continue its journey around the range with what appeared to be detached interest. "The Executor -"

_("- Pallin continues to rebuild C-Sec after the crippling losses suffered during the Battle of the Citadel," the news report blares – light and color dance from the screen, outlining an alien face – words and names scroll one after the other, each less relevant than the last, illuminating the sterile flat floor of his cell.)_

"Executor Pallin?" Kolyat wondered aloud. Bailey turned to look at him, and Kolyat realized he'd interrupted the older man mid-sentence. Fortunately the captain appeared to take it in stride; the corners of Bailey's mouth pulled outward as he rubbed at one of his biceps with a free hand.

"That's the one. A big pain in the ass."

The lighting of the firing range was soothing and dim. Empty save for them and the drone that had settled into an idle shutdown, it seemed almost too quiet in the brief silence that fell between them. Bailey frowned.

"But I didn't come here to talk about Presidium poodles," he stated and gestured to the gun Kolyat was holding. The hum of Kolyat's translator wavered and blipped at the unfamiliar noun; the drell nictated his secondary eyelids and looked up. What was a _poo-duhl_?

"You didn't come here to see me, either," Kolyat grumbled and pulled at the bottom of his vest. The irritation was returning. It was a safe feeling, far preferable to uncertainty.

"Maybe not," Bailey replied. The brittle blue of his alien eyes softened a fraction. "But this wasn't on my list of stops, either."

Kolyat watched when the C-Sec captain approached the range's access terminal and rebooted the simulation. An unfamiliar warm feeling centered in the drell's chest as the implication of the human's words pinged back and forth in his head. Kolyat wasn't sure what to do with it, and it both angered and scared him.

_Weak, weak, weak, weak -_

The targeting drone reappeared on the range in a shimmering flash of code. Bailey tapped at the terminal while he continued, "How's this working out for you?"

Kolyat attempted to repress a scowl and failed. "What do you mean?"

"Gettin' certified to work with us," the human said. "Getting your license to carry – hell, all of it, son."

"I didn't have many options," the drell snapped.

Bailey seemed to ignore him. "The community board has the rest of your service logged under me now, eh?"

Kolyat said nothing and felt the scales on his neck tighten.

"I had to pull some strings to get you clearance for this," Bailey continued. "_Lot_ of people weren't happy about letting an ex-jailbird work with handling guns. Looks like it worked if they let you in."

"I wasn't expecting realistic rounds," Kolyat confessed. This time the human's face split into a grin.

"This is C-Sec, son. We're never short on pizazz."

Bailey was obviously waiting for something. Kolyat felt the line middling his lips press together while he and the older man sized each other up. After another beat of silence Bailey reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers through his hair. "So," the human continued while brushing at his scalp. The millions of follicles crowning his head were short and stiff, each a strange yellow color that bent beneath the pressure. Humans and their _hair... _They never could leave it alone.

_(He glances from the omni-tool, watching her from the corner of his eye – her hand moves, pale fingers brushing strands of dark hair from her forehead - white splitting black – "It's like we don't exist," she says.)_

"Don't stop on my account," Bailey was saying when Kolyat's mind snapped back to the present.

Kolyat held the gun sideways and banished the mental image of blue eyes and black hair to the back of his mind. "What, you want to watch or something?" he asked while glowering at the older man from beneath his plated brows.

"I'd like to know if you can hit the broad side of a relay before even thinking about getting you certified, yeah," Bailey shot back. Kolyat scowled and tightened his grip on the gun. Bailey motioned at it, continuing, "I had to pull a few strings for that, too."

Kolyat's gaze flickered down to the Carnifex in his hand. It was almost identical to the one he'd had... well, before. The sight of his own face dully reflected in the metal tinged the silver to teal. "Sounds like you're about out of strings," the drell chuffed. When he looked up again the captain's face looked worn.

"I am," he said. "Or close to it. It's your call now, kid. I've done what I can, and I doubt Shepard will be as willing to _negotiate_ the next time you screw up."

"There won't be a next time," Kolyat shot back, and was surprised when the older man smiled. It made the myriad of lines creasing Bailey's face deepen and web outward, and Kolyat was again struck by just how alien he was.

"I'll hold you to that. That, or in a cell." The smile disappeared and Bailey inclined his chin toward the weapon. "I hope you never have to use it."

_(He thumbs the trigger once, twice – cold alloy at the lines of his palm – )_

The prickling sensation returned to Kolyat's fingertips. "Seems like a waste of a license, then," the drell ventured.

The human's face hardened. "Ideally, it should be used in self-defense, although I'd prefer it never come to that. Anything else is on your conscience... and your criminal record."

It occurred to Kolyat, in that moment, that he was long overdue on a _thank you_. He wasn't stupid – the captain had obviously stuck his neck out for him more than once. Not that playing the system was anything new in the Wards, but the drell was still grateful. Really. He'd just never _said_ so. But now that the two of them were alone, speaking face to face without any outside interruptions, some part of him – some irritating, niggling little part of him – wanted to say it. Only... he didn't know _how_.

Kolyat opened his mouth, reconsidered, and nictated twice, once with each set of eyelids. Captain Bailey was looking at him strangely with both of his eyebrows raised. Words in galactic common and his native tongue alike tickled at the back of Kolyat's throat, and the longer he kept them there, the more it felt like he needed to cough, or vomit, or both.

"Yeah," his mouth blurted before he could come up with anything. He and Bailey stared at each other awkwardly and Kolyat resisted the urge to wince.

"I've been working on my score," he fumbled, hoping to salvage their conversation.

"I noticed," Bailey said. "The techs outside said you'd been down here once or twice before." He tapped at the edge of the range's terminal; its optical interface jumped to life at the contact, projecting names and numbers that scrolled one after the other. "600 and above is good enough for our lowest level gun license, but if you ever decide to go official, you'll need more than that. What have you got so far?"

Kolyat stared at the list of scores and halfway expected to see his name. It might have been easier if Bailey had just looked him up... Or maybe he already had and this was a twisted form of punishment for acting like an unsociable jerk. When staring hard enough _didn't_ burn a hole through the console and magically erase his records, Kolyat sighed through his nose and muttered the number under his breath.

Bailey raised an eyebrow. "Damn, son."

"This is my first time taking it seriously," Kolyat grumbled. He pointed an accusing finger at the older man's chest, his raspy voice warbling. "And then you had to come and distract me!"

"Maybe you should lower the difficulty." The captain appeared thoughtful. "If you're having that much trouble..."

"I can do just fine!"

"Don't act so embarrassed," Bailey drawled. "Last I checked, that girl you hang around with wasn't here."

_(She touches his hand, skin bare and feather light – their eyes meet, blue on black – )_

"I – _what?_" Kolyat realized his mouth was open and quickly shut it. "Who?"

"Try again," the human instructed, obviously ignoring him. Kolyat scowled and briefly considered throwing the gun at the older man's face, but knowing his luck today, he'd probably miss that, too. "Your grip is good, but keep your back straight, or else your elbow will kick whenever the gun fires. This goes double for a Carnifex. They pack one hell of a punch."

"They hold less sinks."

"You won't need them. Or do you want to try an M-3 instead?"

Kolyat curled his lip. "What do _you_ think?"

"I think you want something to bitch at," Bailey wheedled. "Now try again."

A blue beacon lit in the corner of Kolyat's vision when the simulator booted back online. Without thinking, he turned his head to track it, bringing the gun up instinctively. The hologram disappeared in a flash, stray strands of code curling downwards into nothingness, and the kinetic sensors on the wall grid whirred in preparation for another surge.

For a split second the room closed in to blackness and the presence of another at his back barely brushed against his conscience. Kolyat waited, coiled, with that familiar heat bundling in the muscles of his arm –

There was another flash of blue somewhere to his right –

A hair-twitch response was all it took for the heavy pistol to fire. The hologram erupted into static as the kinetic sensors pinged a bright yellow, indicating a successful hit. Kolyat blinked once, then twice as the muscles of his shoulders twitched with excess adrenaline.

"Good shot," Bailey observed from his vantage point by the terminal. "A few more like that and I might have to take you seriously."

Kolyat lowered his arm a fraction. "I don't -"

"Here we go," Bailey interrupted as another hologram flared to life further down the range.

Kolyat froze, his pupils dilating to slits before he jerked and fired again. The bullet went wide, skimming the holo and causing it to flicker but little else. Kolyat swore aloud and readjusted his grip.

"Never thought I'd say this, but you might be over thinking things," Captain Bailey observed.

Kolyat glowered at the officer. "Maybe _you're _my problem."

"You've got a lot of problems," the human conceded, his brown fingers tapping at the console with calculated ease. "I'm just one of them."

"You son of a -"

There was another flash of blue and Kolyat jerked to the side, quickly correcting his line of sight when he realized he'd overshot, and fired again. His palm ached, either from the recoil or the fact that he was gripping the pistol a lot harder than he should.

The hologram flickered but remained intact. Kolyat felt the tips of his frill droop.

Bailey looked up from the terminal. "You're predicting too much – guessing where the target will be based on what it's done before."

Kolyat watched the projection reappear back and forth across the range. "What?" he asked while not looking away.

"I don't know how drell minds work," the captain explained, "but it might work better if you remembered where it _hasn't_ been."

This time Kolyat_ did_ turn to look at him. "_What?_"

Bailey shrugged his shoulders.

"Will that work?" the drell wondered, his frown dissolving.

"Hell if I know, but watching you miss gets awkward after a while."

Another wink of light cut Kolyat's insult short. His pupils flitted in time with the hologram and watched it disappear with the knowledge that it would leap up somewhere else –

- and the world became layered, all outlines leaping forward and sharpening, with each one casting everything in high relief. In that split second Kolyat _detached_, and in his suspension a new flash lit the back of his eyes, and his muscles simply _responded_, leaping into action to eliminate the newfound threat.

The range was lit once more with a flare of static when his bullet sailed through the hologram's middle. It dissipated into nothing, both in mind and in view. Kolyat lowered the pistol and felt the beating of his heart drumming hot inside his chest.

"You've got a good eye," Bailey said. "When you know how to use it."

Kolyat shifted his weight against the floor. The heat from his chest spread and tickled the edges of his frill, something he hoped the human wouldn't notice. Not trusting himself to speak, he mimicked a shrug instead.

"Or it could be that you do better when someone's here to ride your ass about it," the older man continued. He reached up and rubbed at a strip of stubble on his chin. "Consider bringing your friend down here next time."

"Friend?" Kolyat blurted, confused as to what his superior meant – only to regret it immediately.

Bailey's face brightened. "Yeah, you know. What's-her-name -"

_(A higher voice, dark lips moving against a pale face – "I'm Oriana.")_

"Screw off," Kolyat snapped, almost certain that the human's translator would bungle a more complicated curse. He kicked the last of the cooling heat sinks off to the side with the toe of his shoe.

"_Just _a suggestion." When neither of the men moved, Bailey keyed the terminal off and set the simulation to idle. When the console dimmed he came to stand beside the sulking drell, his larger boots making surprisingly little noise as he did. "Look, I just wanted to stop by. See how you were doing."

"I'm fine." Kolyat kept an eye on the older man even while he pretended to be distracted with the pistol in his hand.

"Didn't hurt to check." Bailey paused. "I've got some other things to take care of, but you know where to find me when your next shift starts."

Kolyat swapped the pistol into his other hand and kept his expression neutral. Bailey watched him for a moment before turning to leave.

"Make sure to shut everything down when you're done," the captain called over his shoulder. "Log out at the terminal and make sure your score saved. Oh, and leave the pistol on the gun rack. The men outside aren't going to let you walk out with it, real or not."

Kolyat rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Don't think you have to come check on me every time they let me near a weapon."

"I wouldn't allow it if I thought it was going to be a problem," Bailey said as he keyed the door open. "You don't have to wear the vest any more, either."

Kolyat's hands flew to the straps sitting on his shoulders. "I don't?"

"No."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

The human's mouth twitched once. "Eh."

When the officer had gone, the first thing Kolyat did was tear the offensive blue vest from his body. Well, okay, it was more like he wiggled out of it very slowly and delicately – he was sure he would piss off _someone_ if he managed to tear it, and it was a pain to pull over his shoulders anyway. The sleeves popped loose once he'd stretched his arms up far enough, and he worked on pulling the rest of it over his head with a self-satisfied grunt.

_("Consider bringing your friend down here next time.")_

As soon as the vest hit the floor Kolyat dropped his arms and looked around, half-expecting to see Oriana materialize from the ether. He wasn't sure why the thought of her watching him bothered him as much as it did, but when his search came up empty, he relaxed. After toeing the vest away into the corner of the room – far, _far_ into the corner – he returned to the front of the range and approached the terminal. He could go for two... maybe three more rounds if his luck held out. Now that he knew he could do it, the exercise seemed almost therapeutic.

As the simulation booted up from another idle shut down, Kolyat took a moment to lean against the guardrail and loosen up. When he coiled and uncoiled his fingers a dull stab of pain shot up his arm. The sensation gave him pause, and he whittled down the number of rounds to two at most. He might not like it, but knowing how to use a gun – and not in a half-assed way – was a skill he would need if he was going to live outside of Kahje.

And practicing here felt... safe. The targeting drones would never be flesh and blood. They were ambiguous shapes, illusions, not masses made of dreams and a pulse. When he remembered shooting them he would see only a bright flurry of code and nothing else. No blood, no fear, no disappointed face...

With the pads of his fingers now resting on the cool edge of the guardrail, Kolyat realized it was as close to real as he was willing to get. With a sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and squinted his dominant pair of eyelids.

He really was a shitty hitman.

Opening his eyes, Kolyat wandered back around to where he'd kicked off the vest. Giving it one final, venomous look, he tugged the wrinkles out of the front of his security fatigues and wondered how ridiculous he looked now.

_(The door chimes, slides open – she passes through the light of the entryway with a sweep of her back, hair fanning above her jaw, laughing. "Huh. Maybe it's not the uniform after all.")_

Kolyat realized he was staring at a creased bit of fabric at his abdomen. Jerking his head up, he cleared his throat and picked up the gun. _Focus._ That was what he needed.

He lined up his next shot and, despite his best efforts, couldn't stop himself from thinking that if they'd only used the same shade of blue as her eyes, then he might not have minded the vest after all.

* * *

_EXTRANET E-MAIL ARCHIVE: MARKED AS READ [MSG #0078 - MSG #0079]_

_MSG #0078:_

_TO: INTERNAL AFFAIRS - C-SEC CMMD ZAKERA ( /a/ cit. mid-zakera. csec. m-0. sa)  
FROM: Cpt. Armando-Owen Bailey ( bailey. ao /a/ cit. mid-zakera. csec. m-1. sa)  
CC: Kolyat Krios (k. krios /a/ cit. mid-zakera. csec. m-2b. sa)  
SUBJECT: TRANSFER #007824_

_Alright, got everything squared away at the office. Thanks for the quick approval. Thought I'd be a grandma before I got anyone moving on this case up at HQ._

_Krios' community service is now being moved under my direct jurisdiction. It's a lot less hassle than trying to work compliance with some suit in another office halfway across the ward. He's not real C-Sec, but he'll be wearing my colors and paying his dues however I see fit._

_As long as he does the jobs and I do mine, I don't expect any hassle. I'll let you know if anything comes up._

_Krios, since you can read this, you start tomorrow. Fifth cycle, bright and early. You're going to love your first assignment. I'll send you an e-mail with details._

_- Captain Bailey_

* * *

_MSG #0079:_

_TO: Kolyat Krios  
FROM: Cpt. Armando-Owen Bailey  
SUBJECT: Job details  
ATTACHMENT #1: Supreme Z-Tech GeoLine Dark Roast Coffee Maker (MANUAL/OPERATIONS GUIDE). hlo  
ATTACHMENT #2: Timetable of how long it takes to hustle from the break room to the front desk to provide instant coffee refills (EDITS BY HARON). hlo_

_Better start getting real familiar with these._

_-Captain Bailey_


	5. One Year Day

**REVISED:** September 22, 2013

I'd like to thank LunaMax1214 for her help with this chapter. :)

* * *

**Scene Four**

One Year Day

* * *

When Oriana Lawson had made the joke about being run over by an elcor, she hadn't intended for it to actually happen.

Fortunately for her, fate was on her side. She'd seen the hulking tower of muscle cut around her transit cab just in time for her to duck back inside the door and avoid being sideswiped by one of the elcor's massive arms. Illium skyways had been crowded, but they hadn't been _this_ crowded.

Oriana eased one of her legs outside the cab and slid the rest of her body out after it. When she looked up and blinked the light of the Serpent Nebula from the corner of her eyes, she found herself face to face with the very same elcor – a middle-sized civilian dressed in violet.

"With great remorse: I did not see you. Forgive me," it rumbled. The thick bass of the alien's voice made the tiny hairs on the back of Oriana's neck stand on end. Beyond the elcor's shoulder she could see a number of people crowding the Tayseri Point customs desk. Raised voices colored the air of the transit station in a cloud of multi-cultural profanities, some of which Oriana had never heard before. The dark-haired woman frowned and gestured at the milling mass of bodies.

"Are they having another power shortage?" she asked her alien companion, being less concerned with the elcor's apology than she was with the state of the ward and the affect it might have on her plans.

"Belatedly: The Tayseri Ward power grid is undergoing scheduled maintenance. Numerous transit stations are momentarily offline," the elcor answered while it shifted its bulk away from her cab. Oriana brushed her hands down the front of her dress and felt her brow crinkle with an oncoming frown. _That's just great_. The terminal was filled with people canceling appointments or booking other shuttles. No wonder it was so crowded.

"Thank you," Oriana said and straightened her hair with a quick run-through of her fingers. She turned toward the customs desk and felt a fleeting sense of confusion when she glanced backwards over the balcony. It was almost identical to the view from the Zakera Ward transit hub she used so much, but the skyscrapers here were arranged differently, and the shadows they cast fell on unfamiliar lights.

"Thank you for using Tayseri Transport," the shuttle's monotone computer chimed. There was a burp of static before a noticeably more cheerful and feminine voice rang out from the speakers: "The Tayseri Office of Vehicular Services is now hiring! Our records show that you, Oriana Solheim -"

"No thanks," Oriana quipped and logged out. The shuttle powered down to idle when its door slid closed. That was one thing about the Citadel she _could_ do without – not even Illium's ambient announcement system was that annoying... Or so obsessed with selling you something.

Unfortunately, there was no shortcut that would power her through the line of people encircling the customs desk. Oriana wandered the edge of the crowd in the hope that an opportunity to slip through would present itself. The "green-lit" line – the line for citizens traveling within customs limits, and with no prohibited items – was noticeably longer than the red-lit line, which was reserved for specialty cases.

Great.

And just like that, she'd made her decision. Oriana ran her tongue against the back of her lips and strode toward the red-lit line. The Wards were known for their colorful and flashy fashions and she would blend in just as well. Deciding to take her chances, she squeezed into line behind a very flustered and pale-faced turian commuter when the krogan waiting after him wasn't looking.

"I'm sorry, sir," the asari customs agent was explaining to the aforementioned turian. "But you'll need a license to carry that blade within the Tayseri transport terminal -"

"You can't be serious," the commuter complained. "You're just as bad as those racist _humans_ at Zakera!"

"Sir, do you have a license?"

"Of course I do!"

"Can you show it to me?"

"Why would I? The right to carry a family blade is a right granted to all citizens from the Hierarchy -"

"Sir, this isn't Palaven. We can't recognize that right without proof of license."

"I want to see your manager," the turian declared, still clutching his luggage.

The asari agent sighed. "If you will, just step over there and wait a moment. I'll get in contact with our office and see what we can do."

"We'll see about that," the turian sniffed while he stalked off to sit on one of the nearby benches. Oriana seized the chance to take the turian's place and breathed a sigh of relief when the asari glanced up from her terminal. Behind her she could hear the confused mumble of a krogan saying something about how the line seemed shorter five minutes ago.

"Welcome, human. If you would please fill out this form in the event that you carry legalized wetware or -"

"That's not necessary," Oriana cut in. When the asari frowned, she smiled (in the most disarming manner she could muster) and continued, "I've got to meet someone from the Auxua School, and I don't want to be late." She tilted her head toward the other, _longer_ line for emphasis.

The asari puckered her lower lip before nodding. "I understand. In that case, just give me your I.D. and I'll let you through." The alien paused and scratched at the edge of her naked scalp. "Goddess, I'll be glad when we have all the power restored."

Oriana handed over her Citadel I.D. and watched while the agent scanned it in. With another glance over her shoulder, Oriana inclined her head toward the irate turian commuter still skulking in the corner. "You're waiting for him to leave, aren't you?"

"Now that would be telling," the asari answered with a wink and handed the I.D. back. "Please enjoy your stay in Tayseri, Miss Solheim."

The Tayseri transit floor had a C-Sec office similar to the one back at Zakera, only the scanners here were manned by an asari officer instead of Sergeant Haron, and instead of Captain Bailey an asari C-Sec captain sat manning the front desk. In fact, Tayseri Ward appeared to have much more asari in general. There seemed to be more foliage, too. Upon exiting the customs office, Oriana took a moment to admire an alcove decorated in half a dozen transplanted species of flora. The potted soil was thick and overgrown with tiny vines that bloomed outward, and the thin nutrient fog that misted the shelves of greenery rolled downward in waves.

It was as good a place as any to wait. Oriana turned and leaned back against the guardrail. She could see most of the 17th floor hub from where she was standing; the floor was filled with people coming and going, and every shop was accented with an array of scrolling banners. The nutrient mists that kept the miniature gardens separating the partitions lush was odorless, but the plants themselves tinted the otherwise sterile air with the smell of spring.

Oriana wasn't sure who she was looking for, but she was confident she would know them when she saw them. The cool alloy of the guardrail pinched at the bottom of her elbows and she shifted her arms forward so that she could thread her fingers together against her abdomen. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could meet her mother for lunch. Outside of weekly vid-calls, she hadn't seen her parents in over a month.

She missed them.

Luckily Oriana didn't have to wait long. A dark-haired human man caught her attention from the other side of the lobby. He turned, as though aware he was being watched, and when he noticed her his face lit up in recognition. His straight-legged uniform was a deep navy trimmed in gold, and when he began to jog forward Oriana could see AUXUA SCHOOL OF THE ARTS emblazoned across his right sleeve and breast.

"Miss Solheim?" he ventured once they were within speaking distance. Oriana nodded her head and smiled, and when the Auxua representative reciprocated she extended her hand in greeting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Solheim," the man gushed and accepted her hand. His grip was firm and warm.

"Call me Oriana," she said and glanced down. Even her twin sister Miranda hadn't shaken her hand _this_ hard when they'd first met on Nos Astra - or even Captain Bailey when she'd first arrived at Zakera Ward. Or Kolyat when... well, never.

"Oriana," the man repeated. He had dark eyes, so brown that they were almost black. "What a beautiful name, both the first and last. My name is Sokir. Shall we get started with the tour, then?"

She smoothed the front of her jacket. "Sure."

Sokir led her through the 17th and 18th floor hubs and pointed out areas of interest, mainly shops and restaurants and one club called Red Nova ("We won't be going in that one," he'd explained while clearing his throat.) Oriana was already familiar with many of them, courtesy of touring the Ward with her parents when they'd first moved to the Citadel, but she feigned interest anyway. There was a Saronis Applications store stationed on the 18th floor, and the shopkeeper was a salarian, much like Marab back in Zakera Ward. When they passed the last row of vine-laden partitions, Oriana wondered if the two salarians might be related. You never knew with them.

The two humans entered an elevator at the end of the 18th floor. Her guide let her step in first – it was a courtly, old-fashioned gesture that almost struck Oriana as absurd. Kolyat certainly wouldn't do something like that. He'd have stalked right inside the elevator without a glance backwards.

The doors shut behind them and Oriana took a deep breath when the elevator began its ascent. The pulsing hum of artificial gravity curled inside her gut and stayed there, making her feel light-headed and queasy. She'd never told a soul that she was prone to motion sickness. It was... embarrassing. Swallowing the faint sting of nausea, she found herself staring beyond the unobstructed glass wall that faced out into the Wards.

"Tayseri Point is located toward the end of the ward arm," the man beside her was saying. He motioned toward a spot off in the distance. "Many of our students..."

Sokir continued speaking, but the glimmering lights of the rest of Tayseri were starting to swim in Oriana's vision. She tried to think of something to distract her from the rising nausea.

_Come on, come on... The most distracting thing in sight is-_

...The rapidly ascending glass elevator moving through space and shielded only by a thin layer of centrifugal gravity?

_I hate you, brain._

Oriana wet the roof of her mouth with her tongue and shifted her attention towards the other ward arms that curved just within view. Her companion seemed to notice and switched topics to compensate.

"Our school has a number of open balconies and indoor skylights that showcase the natural beauty of the station," he said. "We believe it helps to facilitate the creative process much better than enclosed walls do."

The artificial light dotting the elevator chute flashed by them in waves, one floor after the next, and Oriana found herself looking at the shadowed arm of Zakera Ward in the distance. It looked deceptively small and deceptively large all at once. When she focused on it, the rest of the world seemed to stop lilting as badly.

For a moment she considered looking for the building where Kolyat and Captain Bailey worked. Maybe even their apartment block, despite the fact that these places would be impossible to see. It was interesting to note that her _up_ was now Kolyat's _down_, and vice versa – the thought brought to mind the mental image of that same surly drell standing on his head, and Oriana's lips curled into a small smile.

Motion sickness and sentimentality. What a combination.

Closing her eyes against the hum still echoing in her gut, she was oblivious to all but the brief flashes of light illuminating the back of her eyelids. It almost felt like home.

_Don't kid yourself, _part of her brain cautioned.

The elevator slowed. The uncoiling feeling bumped up into Oriana's throat and then slid back down as her eyes reopened.

"The Auxua lobby starts on the 23rd floor," Sokir was saying. "The next five floors belong to our school, and we have a personal shuttle service on the sixth that our students use to travel to the concession stations and the Dilinaga Concert Hall, among other things."

"The elevator feels slow," she said, saddened that things like the concert hall were still rubble while the damn _elevators _went unscathed. Cockroaches, that's what they were.

The man looked sheepish, but he laughed anyway, his voice deep and rich. "Our shuttle docks were some of the first repaired in this sector, after the damage done by the geth. Same for the elevators. As for the speed... The Keepers keep resetting the ascension speeds."

"Could they be conserving power?" Oriana wondered aloud, remembering the mysterious green creatures that inhabited just about every corner of the Citadel.

"It's possible. I hear it's even more annoying on the Presidium. After you enroll -" Here he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and smiled with straight, white teeth. "..._If_ you enroll, you'll be permitted the use of our private student-only shuttles, so the elevators won't be an issue."

The hum died down when the elevator came to a stop on the 23rd floor. Her stomach flipped and Oriana ignored the urge to lean against the glass and engage in the ancient art of dry heaving. Instead she stepped out into the Auxua School of the Arts lobby at her guide's beckoning, and the tour resumed.

They passed the registration desk, a student lounge, a number of classrooms and a small concert hall. Oriana slowed when they passed a botanical garden that served as a learning center for xeno-colonial cultivation. The library was ahead. Much to her delight, Sokir showed her inside.

When her eyes swept over the rows of books and digital manuscripts housed in indexed OSDs, Oriana couldn't help but think that things would go much faster if she were by herself. She had always considered herself to be patient, but she didn't need someone holding her hand, even if doing so was their job.

She wanted to browse and rifle through OSDs. She wanted to pilfer. She wanted to be _nosy_, damn it.

"These are our latest acquired titles," Sokir said and motioned at a shelf. "Feel free to look. I'm afraid the rest of our collection is reserved."

It was better than nothing. Oriana picked up a book and marveled at the textured binding that weighed against her fingers. If Kolyat were here he'd no doubt be fidgeting right now – maybe poking around the garden or being passive-aggressive about leaving so he could go be disgruntled somewhere else.

No... Oriana turned the book over before setting it back on the shelf. Someone like Kolyat would not be subtle at all. He would make it very clear that he was bored and antsy. It was a shame that Oriana was too mild-mannered to do the same. It was also bizarre that she was feeling jealous of someone like _Kolyat_. There were billions of better attitudes that she could emulate, but for some reason she kept thinking about him.

"Do you have _Criminal Negligence: The Citadel Council and the True Story of the Geth Threat_?" Oriana inquired when she straightened a pair of datapads that had been acting as bookends.

Her guide blinked once, seemingly taken off-guard. "I... that's a rather controversial title." Regaining his composure, Sokir folded his arms across his chest and paced beyond her line of sight. "We try to keep... certain commentary out of our academic library, but we do have a section reserved for recreational reading."

Oriana finished straightening the datapads. She had no real interest in recreational material, and she'd be more successful at conducting _personal_ research back at Zakera.

"We get many of our materials from the Museum of Galactic History here in Tayseri," the Auxua representative continued. Oriana swiveled to face him. He was leaning against one of the library terminals and smiling, his dark eyes highlighting a twin set of tanned dimples. "Routine visits there are part of our xeno-colonial study program. Have you ever been?"

"Not yet," she answered. A pair of asari were talking near a facing pair of cubicles. When they noticed Oriana looking they fell silent and whispered between themselves, pausing only to throw the dark-haired woman a suggestive wink. Oriana felt the back of her neck flush, but otherwise she chose to ignore the two alien females while she followed Sokir back into the hall.

"Your records show that your father, Mr. Solheim, works here in Tayseri, as well as your mother. Mr. Solheim has a degree in tech-networking and shuttle repair, doesn't he?"

"He does." Oriana sent the man a calculated look when they stopped in front of the Auxua Undergraduate Office. It shared its floor with an open balcony, and Oriana took a stance near the waist-high guardrail.

"I assume that he's been called in for the latest round of maintenance here in Tayseri?" Sokir asked.

"It's put him back a few cycles." Oriana threaded her fingers together against her abdomen and considered her next words. "Why do you want to know?"

The man looked taken aback, but he recovered swiftly, and with another brilliant smile. "Just curious. You live in Zakera Ward?"

Oriana studied the other human under the shadow cast by her long eyelashes. "I have an apartment there."

"Will you be moving to Tayseri to be closer to your parents?"

Even though she saw the question coming, it still surprised Oriana when her stomach hitched. Images flashed in the back of her mind. She saw herself ritually packing and unpacking her belongings, another uncertain shuttle ride to _somewhere_, her sister pouring over records and manipulating things all over again, and the image of two black eyes set in a teal-scaled face that are once more being left behind.

"No," she said, much quicker than she'd expected. "No," she amended, remembering to smile. "I'll be staying where I am. I've got friends there."

"Our student shuttles aren't affected by the ongoing repair, so commuting from Zakera is a feasible alternative," the man replied. "We do have reserve blocks in case you ever change your mind."

_I won't. _"I'll keep that in mind." Deciding that she'd been passive enough through their conversations, Oriana pretended to find something interesting to look at beyond the balcony. "I've been looking into the Larathos Institute over in Kithoi, too."

She didn't have to look over to know that the Auxua representative was suddenly _very _interested.

"Have you?" he asked, edging closer. He was still smiling. "It's a good facility. Kithoi Ward has the Council Central Archives and Taralos Amphitheater." The smile didn't reach his eyes, and Oriana felt a trickle of revulsion. Kolyat... Miranda, even Captain Bailey never smiled unless they meant it.

Okay, so Kolyat almost _never_ smiled, but that was beside the point.

"Larathos has a lot of good foundation courses in colony development," she continued. "But most of them are technical."

"A rounded perspective is key in attaining any degree," the other human ventured, no doubt choosing his words as carefully as she was. "We offer xeno-colonial theory and cultural studies. Many students find them invaluable when it comes to interacting with contractors. In this day and age, all of us are connected – human and salarian, turian and asari." His grinned widened. "Volus. You'll be dealing with a lot of volus in colony development."

"A lot of volus live in Zakera Ward," Oriana said. "It's one of the reasons I wanted to live there." That, and her parents had thought it would be safer. Apparently Miranda had thought the same.

"I understand that you also play the violin? Here at Auxua, culture and art are our focus, no matter the species. Before the Dilinaga Concert Hall was destroyed, our music program hosted numerous concerts there."

"The violin is a hobby," Oriana explained. "I'd consider a minor in it, but not anything else."

"Understandable." He motioned at the office doorway. "Would you like to take a look at our degree listing? We have a course list available in our office, as well as credit hours and qualifications for transfers."

Oriana straightened her dress and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. "Sure."

"If you want to look into our medical coverage, ask our assistant. We'll need a transfer of your health records to see what you qualify for."

Oriana felt her back stiffen imperceptibly. "Most of my records are protected." _Miranda has made sure of that. _"They'll need to be requested."

Sokir looked at her, puzzled.

"I've had genetic modifications," Oriana explained, hoping this would deflect his interest. "Legal, but still." Well, she didn't know that for _sure_ – she did know that she'd never set off any Citadel security scanners, but Miranda had been unwilling to divulge anything more.

His face brightened. "That won't be a problem." Sokir laughed then, his eyes dark with mirth. "Who _hasn't _been modified these days?"

Kolyat's face flashed before her mind's eye. She doubted _he_ had, and for some reason that thought prompted the onset of numerous contradictory feelings.

As she followed the dark-eyed man into the Auxua office, Oriana caught herself wondering if he'd been born with those handsome little dimples after all.

* * *

"You know, if you weren't my daughter, I might think you were an asari."

Oriana looked up from her plate and arched one of her eyebrows. "What was that for?"

"Look at it!" Mrs. Solheim pointed the tip of her fork at her daughter's plate. "That's the same thing you ate back on Illium. Asari food. We're not even on an asari colony anymore, but you still eat it."

"I like it," Oriana defended with a quirk of her lips. The plate of Thessian delicacies smelled sweet, but spicy. The aroma inspired feelings of comfort, and memories of earlier years spent marveling at the moonless nights of Nos Astra.

"Sunshine, we live on the Citadel now. The hub of all galactic civilization. Don't you like it?"

"Is that a real question?"

"Because if you do, you should eat what it has to offer." Mrs. Solheim dabbed her mouth with a napkin and frowned when her lipstick smudged. "Huh. Turians can't make lipstick for crap."

Oriana raised both eyebrows and hid her smile with another spoonful of food. "Considering they don't have lips..."

"Wards life has made you cheeky," Mrs. Solheim sniffed, obscuring her own smile with another napkin. "Or have you always been like your father?"

"You would know," Oriana laughed and took a sip of water. "Why are you asking about my diet? You're the one drinking an asari drink."

Mrs. Solheim edged her glass of _elasa _nearer to her plate, as though some asari purist might sweep across the room at any minute and take it from her. "When I'm off the campaign trail, I fall into old habits." She folded her napkin and peered at her daughter across the booth. "I'm sorry your father couldn't make it."

"He has a good reason," Oriana shrugged. She folded her legs and leaned back against the cushioned siding of her bench to better take in the sight of the salarian-owned restaurant. It was a deceptively classy establishment for a place called _The Mannovai Munch_.

Mrs. Solheim leaned forward and crossed her forearms over the top of the table. Oriana rested her fingertips against the edge in response and bobbed her foot up and down to the background music that played throughout the restaurant. It sounded like chimes, with the odd drum. She could get used to it.

"How are you settling in?" Mrs. Solheim asked, her smile sobering. "How was Auxua?"

"Good. It's gotten easier." Oriana moved her arms up and folded them similarly to the older woman. The sight of her pale white skin contrasted against Mrs. Solheim's warm brown made it painfully obvious just how adopted she was. "I think I'm going to try for a double degree."

Mrs. Solheim perked her lips. "Double enrollment? What, in Auxua and Larathos?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"Don't get me wrong, Sunshine. I'm more than happy to pay for fifteen degrees. Taking a shuttle to two different wards sounds like a lot of flight time, though."

"I won't be full-time in both." Oriana shifted her weight and ran the scenarios through her head for the umpteenth time that day, picking apart any possible flaws or obstacles that could arise. "I was thinking about taking extranet courses at Kithoi. It's technical."

Mrs. Solheim ran her tongue across her teeth in thought. "It's up to you." She re-folded her napkin. "If you have to come here every other week for a class then we can have more dinner dates." The older woman's face brightened. "I'll get to see you outside of weekly vid-calls. Sounds like a winning strategy to me."

Oriana gestured at the glass of _elasa _with her own utensil. "I thought you were off the campaign trail."

"Right," Mrs. Solheim corrected, taking a quick swallow. "Speaking of which, I got a quarian hired under your father today. You wouldn't believe how much of a fuss I had to wade through to make it happen."

"That bad?"

"Not nearly as complicated as the indentured servitude web back on Nos Astra, but driven by something much more primal. Fear in place of business." Mrs. Solheim took another sip of the asari liquor and squinted. "I don't know which is worse."

Oriana traced a line of frosted condensation across the edge of her glass. Looking up, she could see her adoptive parent still looking at her.

"So," Mrs. Solheim began, "have you met anyone?"

Oriana felt her defenses shoot up. Straightening her shoulders, she smiled and fluttered her long lashes at the older woman in what she hoped looked like innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Made any friends? Any enemies?" Mrs. Solheim leaned forward and raised her dark eyebrows. "Any suitors?"

A lifetime – or near enough – spent with her parents had taught Oriana that silence never worked when it came to evading a question. Her mother was just as driven outside of the political arena as she was in it, and they would have to fight tooth-for-tooth. "I can't believe you'd ask me that."

"Why not? It's a valid question, and you've been very vague." Mrs. Solheim's expression faltered. "Is it an asari?"

Oriana nearly dropped her spoon. "What?"

"Is it an asari? Look, I won't judge you. I know living on Illium meant you had a certain level of... exposure... and we all experiment at least once in our lives -"

_Too. Much. Information._ "Mom, I'm not with an asari."

"Oh, good." Mrs. Solheim visibly relaxed. "I wasn't sold on the idea having grandchildren who can read my mind."

Laughter escaped Oriana before she could stop it. Smiling widely at the woman in front of her, she winked. "Thanks a lot. It's good to know what your priorities are."

"Oh, hush. I was serious about the friends." Mrs. Solheim hesitated, and her smile faltered for real this time. "I know we've had two big moves in less than five years, and they were rather sudden. It's a lot to take in. I hope..."

The subject made Oriana uncomfortable, as did her parent's distress. "It's fine," she cut in._ I know more about it than you do. _"Zakera is a lot like Illium in ways. I've met some friends through the local club and through my visits at the other schools."

It felt wrong to not mention Kolyat. It just _did_. But Oriana was having a hard time figuring out how to do so without it coming off as... well, _alarming_. Informing your parent that you hang out with an ex-hitman was not the best way to introduce said ex-hitman to said parent.

"I've also met some people through C-Sec," Oriana continued, hoping that would suffice. Her cheeks felt hot, but her reflection in the silverware was the same pale, make-up accented face as usual.

"C-Sec? They're upstanding," Mrs. Solheim said. Oriana stifled her undignified snort with another glass of water. "You mentioned a club. The Dark Star?"

"Yeah."

Mrs. Solheim's eyes narrowed. "You know, psyotics is catching on outside of the Illium club scene. You're not doing psyotics, are you?"

"Psyotics?" At this rate Oriana would never stop laughing. "Those capsules that people inject into their skin?"

"They glow in tune with different audio frequencies. Do you remember those glowing people we saw that one night? In the alley outside the Eternity Lounge? _Psyotics_."

"Oh, my god." There was a small tugging sensation against her temples as Oriana ran her fingers through her hair. "I am not doing psyotics."

"I'd hope not." Mrs. Solheim flashed her teeth in an open-lipped smile. "You're too beautiful to be a drug addict."

Oriana fought the urge to roll her eyes. She'd no doubt be told that such a gesture is unbecoming.

But Mrs. Solheim wasn't done. "Does your asari boyfriend do psyotics?"

"Mom."

"Girlfriend?"

"Do you _want_ to see me again?"

Mrs. Solheim winked and finished off her liquor. "I'll drop it. Now hurry up and eat your goulash before I decide not to pay for those degrees after all."

* * *

The shuttle ride back to Zakera was the least eventful trip of the cycle. The Wards may not have days and nights, but Oriana's internal body clock still ticked to the hours that years of living on Illium had instilled in her. She was sleepy, but she couldn't sleep.

The shuttle windows were thick and tinted black. Widow's light was a dim shadow against the sides of the transport. The seat wasn't the most comfortable in the galaxy, but it was a solid presence at her back. Oriana let her head loll backwards and closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of a full stomach and the light brush of hair falling against her forehead.

It would be midnight on Illium around this time. Over a year ago, she would have been asleep, curled up in the sheets of a familiar bed with far fewer uncertainties to chase away her dreams. Over a year ago, she would never have known what – and who – she had been missing. But maybe a few less dreams were worth one guardian angel, and a little uncertainty worth at least one ex-hitman.

Oriana didn't sleep, but she came close, lulled into a state of peace by a sun-warmed shuttle window that was almost as black as his eyes.

* * *

_TO: Hashim Solheim (hashim. sol /a/ cit. mid-tayseri. 802-e. block. net)  
FROM: Oriana Solheim (the. fifth. adagio /a/ cit. mid-zakera. 712-w. block. net)  
SUBJECT: Hi Dad!_

_I'm bummed about not seeing you at dinner, but mom and I had a good time! The Mannovai Munch was delicious. You should check it out sometime. _

_I hope the power trouble in Tayseri didn't give you too much trouble. There must have been a ton of people upset about the shuttles going out. No one gives you a hard time about it, do they? You're one of the guys trying to get things working again, but there's always that one person looking for someone to blame._

_Mom said to be sure to tell you that I love you, but you know that already._

_Love,_

_Your Sunshine_

-x-

_TO: Oriana Solheim  
FROM: Hashim Solheim  
SUBJECT: RE: Hi Dad!_

_Hi sunshine!_

_Power is back and the people are happy! WOOOO_

_We need to go for a snack with mom sometime. Hit every dive from one end of the ward to the other. Do you think turians have ever heard of chicken nuggets? Only one way to find out.. careful investigation..._

_Love you! CALL ME!_

_Dad_


	6. Should Have Known

**REVISED:** September 30, 2013

I'd like to thank wickedtrue for her help with this chapter. :)

* * *

**Scene Five**

Should Have Known

* * *

It took only one moment for Kolyat Krios to decide that if he had to dislike anything, right then, right there, of _all_ the things in the galaxy, that it would be elcor.

Or at least, _this_ elcor.

"Startled indignation: I don't understand what the problem is."

The drell hissed a sigh from the corners of his mouth. Words soon followed. "Bailey said –" (oh how he hated invoking the captain like some right-hand of the gods) "– that if you keep hanging around here, he's going to toss you out on your ass." Kolyat could only hope the threat translated; he didn't care to explain just where the elcor would be tossed, or how they would manage to lift its ass to begin with. In retrospect, that train of thought was starting to lead to places that the drell didn't want to think about, period.

The mouth slits on the elcor's face fluttered, each fold of skin casting tiny shadows against the next. "With thinly veiled contempt: I have done nothing wrong."

The overhead lights that illuminated the Zakera floor hub flickered in and out between the silhouette of Kolyat's fused fingers as he waved his hand. "Like shit you don't. You're up here all the time screwing with people!"

The sight of a hulking sapient shifting its weight against muscle-bound forearms might have intimidated most other aliens, but Kolyat was too irritated to care. "Restrained retort: I have screwed no one," the alien rebutted.

An elcor's spoken language was limited, but the translator chip clipped under the furrow in the side of Kolyat's scalp still offered multiple meanings to more complex turns of phrase. The additional innuendo it suggested in that moment led to even more things that Kolyat really, really did not want to think about.

The numerous civilians and commuters exiting Citadel Souvenirs and the 27th floor customs lobby were starting to take an interest in their confrontation. Kolyat could feel the tell-tale prickle of eyes watching him, and it made the scales across his neck and back tighten.

"_And_ you're a liar," he rasped, his impatience mounting. "Now go somewhere else."

The elcor didn't look impressed. Then again, elcor never looked impressed. Elcor rarely looked like anything. Its two tiny black eyes were no more expressive than the violet caparison draped over its back.

"With patient calm: I live here."

Kolyat just barely overcame the urge to fire back _And you'll die here_ while waving his pistol around in an intimidating fashion. The drell settled for jabbing his finger in the direction of the elcor's massive chest instead.

"This building doesn't _have_ any apartment blocks," he snapped. Damn it, what would Bailey say? "Unless you want to stare at the inside of that interrogation room while we find out what you're _really _up to, maybe you should take a hint."

...Close enough.

There was a pause. Kolyat's accusatory finger hung suspended for two heartbeats before falling back into a fist. The elcor shifted its bulk again and sighed.

"Mournful declaration: I will go."

The larger alien lumbered off into the swell of a typical Zakera Ward crowd. Kolyat chuffed and wondered how he'd ended up at a point in his life where flashing a security uniform (that didn't even _mean_ anything) and an empty Carnifex at elcor had become part of his daily ritual. Turning toward the C-Sec customs lobby, he pressed the pads of his fingers against his brow. Maybe if he pressed in hard enough he would shove all his irritation away, or at least force himself unconscious.

He didn't need to look up to know someone was approaching him; his keen hearing picked up the steady tap of approaching footsteps that overlaid the constant thrum of the distant crowds. Kolyat's pupils flickered to his right and his hand dropped, briefly exposing his eyes to the blinking red of a nearby banner. He nictated both sets of eyelids as tiny spots erupted in his vision, and the footsteps came to a stop.

He glanced over, expecting Bailey or Sergeant Haron, and immediately cursed himself for not recognizing _her_ gait sooner.

_(A higher voice, dark lips moving against a pale face – "I'm Oriana.")_

"I saw what happened," the human began and her blue eyes widened. The spots marring his sight were gone, and the soft outlines of Oriana's face sharpened when Kolyat's focus returned. The lines of black circling her eyes reminded him of drell, only much thinner and artificial. Make-up - that's what it was called.

"Who didn't?" he grumbled and spared a look at the onlookers who had since lost interest.

Oriana peered up at him. "I thought you were going to shoot him," she said and curled her arms at her waist. Her painted lips were pulled into a grin.

Kolyat suppressed a wince. He knew he could be rather... _animated_ when upset and he made no show of hiding it, but hearing a human – _this_ human – comment on it was enough to summon a sliver of shame. It wasn't a feeling that he liked. And as with all feelings that Kolyat didn't like, he tried his best to ignore it.

"Yeah. Well, it doesn't have any heatsinks," he replied while motioning to the gun at his holster. He wouldn't have done it anyway, but she didn't need to know that. Judging by the way the muscles of her face shifted up and then softened, however, it appeared that she already did.

The ribbing of his jaw flushed. Kolyat doubted she noticed.

Oriana swiveled to face where the elcor had once stood. "That guy seemed kind of familiar..."

"He hangs around," Kolyat replied. Something about the dark halo of her hair drew his attention and he found himself staring at the strange tendrils that snaked about her temple. As her head moved, so did they. The sheen of them flashed a deep _color _that he couldn't quite place; black, maybe? He'd never understood hair. He'd never touched it either, and he was certainly not interested in doing so now.

His fingers flexed against his sides. He ignored that, too.

"I ran into an elcor over in Tayseri Ward last week," Oriana was saying. She turned back to face him. "Well, he almost ran into me. He was wearing violet, too."

The plates of Kolyat's forehead shifted up. "Was it near the shuttle area?"

"Yeah, it was. I was getting out of one. Why?"

"It was him." A renewed spike of irritation raced through Kolyat's chest at the thought. Maybe he _would_ pull his gun on the bastard next time. And, like... smack him with it. Or something. Who was he kidding, he'd never do that. "It's his thing. He almost knocked another human over our guardrail, once."

Oriana's expression shifted, darkening under the lights. "Does he not like humans?"

Kolyat felt his shoulders twitch. "He doesn't like anyone."

"He seemed to like you," she teased and winked.

_("You'd think..." Her voice trails off, eyes brightening – "It's a little funny," she says – "At least you caught it," he replies, and she winks one set of eyelids, all human, blue-flashing-blue – "How could I forget?" she teases, "Perfect memory.")_

Kolyat's second eyelids nictated at the memory. Gods damn it, he'd zoned out again. It'd only been a second, but –

"Funny," he deadpanned, waving away Oriana's wink. The human female pretended to pout with her lower lip perking outward. An unfamiliar warmth spread through Kolyat's chest at the sight – he decided he shouldn't like that feeling, either, except when he tried to muster the energy to ignore it, he came up short.

Gods help him. Maybe he was getting tired of disliking everything, or maybe he was just tired. Rejuvenated, he bumped his elbow against Oriana's upper arm.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, amused by the surprised flitter of her eyelashes. He'd startled her. That was new. He should do it more often.

To her credit, she recovered quickly. "It seems like you're always asking me that," she said. Kolyat raised an eye ridge and she drew back, tilting her chin and peering over at him. "I'm not stalking you, honest. I was down at Saronis Applications turning in my omni-tool for an upgrade."

It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "What kind of upgrade?"

"Sensory. A signal boost," she admitted. Her shoulders tensed when she worried her fingers together below the dip of her abdomen. "Marab said he'd been getting a lot of orders for the same thing, from other humans. You can never be too prepared."

Kolyat felt the muscles of his abdomen grow taut. "Have you been having trouble?"

"No. No, I mean, I just thought it would be a good idea. I've never had any problems with aliens." She paused. "Or did you mean the omni-tool?"

"I..." What _had_ he meant? "Both."

The reason for the increase in upgrades went unspoken. Zakera still had its share of anti-human tensions, buried deep in various nooks and crannies of the station. An omni-tool with increased boost could better alert authorities with an S.O.S. encryption if the owner happened to run into trouble somewhere where C-Sec officers were absent.

"I can see about getting you a damage module," Kolyat continued. Oriana looked surprised for the second time, and Kolyat considered keeping a mental tally of these moments. "Bailey may make an exception for you with the scanners." He honestly had no idea whether Bailey would or not.

"I... thanks." She smiled. "I'll think about it."

Kolyat hummed his approval from deep within his throat, although he doubted his human companion could hear it. Maybe she wasn't as naïve as she let on sometimes.

"I was thinking we could make a stop at the cafe," she continued. "Are you on break?"

The clench of his stomach informed the drell that he _was_ rather hungry, but as tempting as the offer was, he curled his lip. "I'm on duty."

"Ah." Oriana cocked her head at him and then looked around the hub and the people passing them on their way to Citadel Souvenirs. "I thought maybe we could get some lunch at the Cafe. With the way you've been standing around, I figured..."

Kolyat just barely kept his palm from connecting with his forehead. "Son of a _bitch_!" he swore and set off at a brisk pace toward the C-Sec customs lobby. "I've got to check in-" Gods, the last thing he needed was Bailey riding his ass about 'shooting the breeze' while on duty (whatever that meant.) He didn't need to turn around to know that the stifled sound of amusement was coming from Oriana.

"I'll wait here," she called out after his retreating back. "Just in case."

"Don't count on it," the drell grumbled. Of course she would wait around for him "just in case." She was always doing crap like that, _assuming_. It annoyed him because he found that quality to be admirable, and Kolyat admired no one.

_( – he's spun by two strong arms, held suspended by two strong hands – laughter echoes all around the room, loud, warm, like the flush of his face – "Dance crazy," his father cheers, spinning faster, the world whirling about in a blur of green and teal – )_

Kolyat clenched his jaw. No. The comparison wasn't fair, and it bothered him that he cared enough to acknowledge that.

The temperature inside the C-Sec office was fractionally lower than in the hub outside, and while it wasn't something that most species noticed, the discrepancy never failed to make the chords of Kolyat's neck jump whenever he entered. Captain Bailey was easy to spot – he was seated at his usual desk and accompanied by a now familiar off-white coffee mug. The glow of a nearby terminal lit the shadowed lines of his face when the older man looked up at Kolyat's approach.

"Hey, son," the human began while he leaned his forearms against the surface of the desk. Kolyat made no attempt to hide the scowl that crossed his face. "I heard Telmut was giving you trouble. How'd it go?"

The drell's broad shoulders twitched in something resembling a shrug. "I told him to scram and he did."

Bailey tapped his calloused thumbs together as a frown deepened the lines around his mouth. "He'll be back. That rat bastard elcor always comes back." Then, as if the entire thing didn't matter after all, the blond-haired captain fell back into his seat with the mug in hand. Kolyat's nostrils cinched as the smell of it wafted toward him: old coffee. "So, what do you want? If you've got nothing better to do I could always use a refill."

Aware that Oriana was still waiting outside the lobby, Kolyat steeled his expression and decided to go right for the jugular – metaphorically speaking. "I need a break." _Need _was a strong word, but they were used to exchanging strong words by now.

Bailey raised an eyebrow as cold coffee touched his lips. He let it linger for a second before setting the mug back down. Kolyat felt the fine scales on the back of his neck prickle when the older man craned his neck toward the entry of the hub. Kolyat had no idea if Bailey could see Oriana from his vantage point, but of all the things in the galaxy that Kolyat didn't like, he decided right then and there that the smug smirk that crept across Captain Bailey's face ranked pretty damn high on the list.

"Sure, son," the officer wheedled and relaxed back into the chair. "But don't drag your feet coming back or there'll be a Dark Star bathroom stall singin' your name. Heard they missed you."

_(A sea of tile stretches before him, dotted with squares and the unknown, shining beneath urinals – the bucket weighs heavily in his hand – his eyes widen, one hand dropping the mop, consumed by a new and hellish Encompassing.)_

Eidetic memory had its downsides. The ability to remember, in perfect clarity, his first round of service work cleaning the Dark Star's bathroom floors was one of them.

"Thanks," Kolyat muttered. Bailey waved a datapad at the thinly veiled sarcasm and went back to drinking his coffee. As the younger drell stalked out of the office he had just enough presence of mind to hear Bailey declare that he "saw it coming a mile away," accompanied by an amused rumble from Sgt. Haron.

True to her word, Oriana was still waiting outside. She glanced away from the nearby Avina terminal and straightened her dress when Kolyat approached, and together they set off for the Zakera Cafe. The wards were all advertisements and crowds, with bodies constantly milling beneath the artificial light and greenery. Gradations of color swept over the pair as they passed by a chain of stores and under the cafe's luminous orange banners.

As soon as they stepped inside, it occurred to Kolyat that he had no idea what rituals humans observed when it came to eating. He'd never cared before, but some part of him that was yet untouched by the grime and grit of wards life was very _aware _of Oriana's presence at his side. Buying... did they buy one another's meals? What were the qualifications? High-ranking turians purchased the meals of their underlings, but asari considered it rude to buy a meal for a respected matron –

"Are you going to order?" Oriana asked. Kolyat nictated. She was already slipping her credit chit back into the front of her off-blue jacket. The cafe attendant behind her was looking at him.

Oh.

"None of your business," he blurted. The human blinked in confusion and Kolyat fought the heat spreading along the tips of his frill. "I was thinking about what to get," he backpedaled with all the grace of a rock.

"Um... Sure. Take your time."

Deciding was easy. After flashing his credit chit, the turian shopkeeper took one glance at his C-sec uniform and gave a curt nod before leaving to get their meals set up. Kolyat felt a tiny pang of discomfort - he didn't_ want_ to mislead people into thinking he was an actual officer, though he did work for C-Sec. Explaining just felt like a lot of effort - and the perks were nice, too.

Oriana settled on one of the stools set up in the cafe's far right corner. Kolyat eased in beside her and drummed his scaled fingers against the side of his thigh while he waited for the turian to return with their orders. The seat felt awkward. The whole thing felt awkward. _He_ felt awkward.

"Maybe we should try the Stand next time," his companion suggested after she shifted in her seat. "I hear they have beer on tap."

"It had a karaoke machine once," Kolyat said while crossing a pair of stripe-splotched arms over his chest. The thick bands lining the uniform pinched around his shoulders but he did his best to ignore it.

"Once?"

"Yeah. They shut it down when people started complaining about the drunk elcor." _Again with the elcor._

"That's a shame," Oriana chuckled. The turian attendant approached the pair with two bowls balanced on his talons. She retrieved hers with a smile and a thank you before passing Kolyat the bowl that had been prepared for him. Once the turian had gone, she glanced down at its contents and grimaced. "What... what is that?"

"Rakhanan millworms," the drell replied and speared a fork into the undulating white and beige mass that comprised his meal. Oriana's painted lips opened in a tiny 'o' shape, her eyes darting to his bowl and then back to his face.

"It's not really worms," he added with a self-satisfied glance in her direction. He shoved the fork in his mouth and she appeared to relax. Swirling her own utensil in her bowl, she started to eat, taking small bites and watching the customers who passed through the cafe. The place specialized in direct orders and ingredient takeout, so most of the customers came and went, with only a few staying to order fresh at the bar as they had done.

"You should try it," Kolyat suggested. Oriana shifted her attention back and gave him a short look. Fighting a smirk, he twitched his shoulders. "Has to be better than whatever you're eating."

"Asari salad," she sniffed. "And you sound like my mom."

Kolyat scrutinized the spice-drizzled assortment of... _stuff_ in her bowl. "Leaves?"

"I'm an omnivore."

"So are drell. You're missing half the wards if you don't try anything different," Kolyat argued. "I didn't know you were such an _e'diya_."

The human blinked once, then twice, a knot of blue-tipped leaves held suspended before her mouth. "Did you just call me a _pussy_?"

Kolyat had no idea what a _puh-see_ was, but he trusted that her translator had done its job. "What if I did?"

Oriana's fine brows arched as she pointed a spoon at him. "You want something, Krios. Why the provocation?"

Choosing his words carefully, Kolyat mustered his best unconcerned expression. Seeing as his default expression these last few months had been 'scowl' with 'unconcerned' as a back-up, it wasn't that difficult. "I just wanted you to try it. Maybe you'll like it, maybe not."

Oriana had calculating eyes. They were like Bailey's, but less brittle. Kolyat could feel her studying him. Staring didn't bother him – he got a lot of that simply by being a rare species – but this was something else.

It was... intriguing.

"Alright," she declared at last. "Scoot your bowl over."

He did. After a moment's hesitation Oriana picked at one of the white strands and managed to isolate it from the others. With all the concentration of a surgeon performing some complex procedure, she extracted it from Kolyat's bowl and went to transfer it to her own.

The meal did not cooperate. It slipped off and landed on the bar. Kolyat laced his fingers in front of his mouth. If he was lucky, his knuckles would hide the smirk that was now growing wider on his face. "Go on. It's only half-dead."

"What?" Oriana froze midway through retrieval. "You said it wasn't worms!"

"I lied."

There were no words in drell or human tongue alike to describe the satisfaction that blossomed in Kolyat's chest as Oriana – perfect, composed Oriana – _blanched_. And when she _did_ notice the tiny smirk hidden behind his hands she began to laugh and sent a kick in his direction, missing him but getting her message across anyway.

"You ass! I should have known!"

"Never assume in the Wards," Kolyat purred. He tucked the bowl closer to his chest. "And it's not worms, it's pasta. But we do eat worms. They don't have the kind I like here."

"How many lies is that in a row?" Oriana was still laughing, and her shoulders trembled beneath the cuffs of her jacket. "Of all the people I could trust, it had to be you," she mocked while flicking the lone noodle in his direction. "We might as well have gone to The Stand. I don't even like pasta."

"Why not?"

"It's a little... Well, I don't like the texture. Besides, you are what you eat. Which for you, would be a worm."

"Better a worm than a leaf," he shot back. "Worms eat leaves, so I'm still top of the food chain."

Oriana stuck her tongue at him. "I hope you get gas."

"You're so mad about that." Now_ Kolyat_ wanted to laugh.

"I was startled!"

Kolyat felt that alien bubble of warmth spreading through his blood again, and, just like earlier, couldn't bring himself to squash it. Nor could he think of an appropriate response. Annoyed by this, he finished his meal in silence. Oriana did likewise and made no indication that she noticed the flush that came and went along the ribbing of his jaw.

The abandoned noodle dangled precariously above the floor. After finishing his bowl, Kolyat poked it with the pad of his thumb. His companion shook her head.

Setting her spoon down, Oriana arced her back in a long stretch. "I'll go get us some drinks, if that's okay with you."

"I don't care," was his only response as she got up to make for the beverage dispenser. Or at least it was until his conscience was pricked and he added a low, "Thanks."

Oriana smiled at him over her shoulder and passed by the bar. Kolyat kept himself busy by rearranging the bowls to where they were perfectly stacked atop each other with their matching utensils lying clean on an unused napkin. He'd never admit it, but he was a neat person by nature. Maybe it had something to do with being raised by his mother, but even his apartment was kept unusually tidy for a young bachelor such as himself. The lack of material possessions played some part in it, but Kolyat felt a sense of satisfaction when he could exhibit some measure of control over his surroundings. It had been a long time since he'd felt in control of anything.

The sudden hum of human voices tugged his attention from the trays. Oriana's was easy to recognize – it was imprinted to memory, but the other was unfamiliar. Kolyat twisted his upper body on instinct and looked over at the drink dispenser. When he saw that his companion was no longer there, he frowned.

Oriana was instead standing near the corner of the Cafe entrance. A clean-shaven human male that Kolyat didn't recognize was speaking to her with subdued gestures, and although their voices were barely a mumble over the din of the hub outside, it was enough to hold Kolyat's attention.

"– _drugs?_" That was Oriana's voice, and Kolyat tensed.

"No, no, no," the man was mumbling. "I thought you were – It's legal. It's fine."

"I'm not interested," she said, and turned to head back into the cafe. The other human stepped forward and made a halting motion. Oriana hesitated, but her arms were held tense at her sides as she grasped a drink canister in each hand.

"Listen, I thought –" The man laughed while pawing at her left arm, and Oriana shied away; despite the other human's advances, his gestures were all palm-up and nonthreatening. "That was a bad start. Forget I asked. I just thought I'd seen you, you know, outside the – do you ever got to the Dark Star? I could've sworn I've seen you there a few times."

"A little," Oriana admitted.

"I like it," the man continued and leaned forward. "Lots of good people. Good music." He was smiling, all of his teeth flashing, and the sight made Kolyat's scales prickle in a way that was not pleasant at all. Moving his weight from the bar, Kolyat pushed his stool out and felt his muscles coiling in preparation for... for whatever he was about to do.

Oriana remained in place. "I should go," she said, pulling her shoulders up in apology. "I've got to –"

"Wait, just listen," the man pressed. He wrung his hands together. "I've got a deal. Maybe me 'n you, the next time you, y'know – the next time you go to the club, maybe we can hook up. I can hook you up with something."

Kolyat was on his feet. He didn't remember standing, but his legs felt distant. The turian attendant looked up but resumed stacking some orders.

"I'm not interested." Oriana's voice was flat. Kolyat could see her hair shift as she turned her head – was she looking for him? – and stepped back.

The man's hand shot out and touched her upper arm and Oriana's head whipped around. "Hold on, I mean, I wasn't kidding –" He licked his chapped lips, his voice dropping almost out of hearing. "About the red sand–"

Her muscles clenched white when she tried to wrest her arm from the other human's grip without dropping the drinks. "Don't push it!"

"C'mon, just set the drinks dow–"

In that moment Kolyat had formed a plan: he was going to break that guy's spindly little arm. Already moving, he was just a hairsbreadth shy of doing just that when Oriana managed to free up one of her hands.

Gods as his witness, she moved _fast _for a human. The unknown dealer yelped when her palm connected with the side of his face and sent him reeling to the side more out of surprise than actual force. They both stumbled once he let go of her arm, and unfortunately for the human, Kolyat happened to be in the right place at the right time to help him catch his balance.

"The hell," the man squawked when Kolyat's hands descended upon his shoulders. Turning to squint at the teal-scaled drell behind him, the human pulled his lips back in a grimace. "Who are–"

The answer came in the form of a fist and a dull _crack_. The man collapsed onto the floor in a daze, his nose and mouth painted with a thickening trickle of red blood. Oriana made a surprised noise and edged back as the cafe attendant shoved through a pair of asari onlookers and arrived on the scene.

"What in spirits is going on?" the turian demanded with a flare of his mandibles. Kolyat reached down and hoisted the bloodied man off the floor with one arm. Said man was too busy cradling his swelling nose to take much notice of the drell's uniform, but when he did he made a defeated noise that Kolyat was becoming fast familiar with.

"Self-defense," Kolyat rasped. His entire body was twitching with adrenaline, his blood coursing so loud and hot throughout his limbs that it felt like he was floating. He glanced in Oriana's direction and was relieved to see she had recovered – as usual – and was smoothing her dress and retrieving the drinks she'd briefly set on top of the dispenser. There were red tracks on her otherwise pale arm where the man's fingers had been.

"Yeah," the turian drawled when he gave the wounded human a critical eye. "I see that."

"Didn't do nuffink," the man complained through red-stained fingers. Kolyat curled his fingertips into the man's shoulder and the human went to shy away, but Kolyat's grip was unrelenting. When the pressure only increased, the man stopped struggling and emitted another groan.

Kolyat wasn't cut out for diplomacy even if his uniform gave him certain advantages – Oriana, however, was. She stepped in and gave the turian an apologetic lowering of her eyes.

"It's my fault. He –"

"It was harassment," Kolyat interrupted and sent Oriana a pointed look. He wasn't sure if it was part of the theatrics or whether he was genuinely annoyed that she was apologizing. The floaty feeling had dissipated, and with it much of the heat – now he just felt numb.

The turian leaned back and scratched at his cowl with a talon. Giving the cowl a self-conscious tug, he waved his free hand at Oriana and clicked his tongue. "Damn, lady, don't apologize. I like seeing a human get punched every now and then."

Oriana blinked.

"Not nice ones," the turian quickly amended. "Just the ones who've got it coming."

"Oh... sure." She didn't look sure. "Me, too."

"Will we have a problem?" Kolyat demanded when he fixed the attendant with another pointed stare.

The turian shrugged his mandibles. "From me? Nah. Just get him out of here before he leaks on my floor."

Kolyat shoved his catch toward the entryway to the hub and the turian waved a towel at the other cafe patrons with a clipped declaration of "show's over." Disappointed that the confrontation had been so short lived, they returned to their browsing and paid the two humans and drell no mind as they left.

"I thought she was a dancer!" the wounded human yelled to no one in particular. He was cut short by the sharp rapt of Kolyat's knuckles against the base of his skull. Oriana met Kolyat's gaze and winced.

"I didn't mean to draw all that attention," she said. The man in front of them seemed emboldened by the walk and started muttering obscenities. He was pointedly ignored by both of them.

"The wards have had worse," Kolyat explained with an unconcerned flex of his shoulders.

"Are we going to take him to C-Sec?" Oriana asked. Her eyebrows were furrowed. "Can't say I'm looking forward to explaining what happened."

"Do you want money?" the man blurted. He'd managed to clean his face against the back of a sleeve and had regained most of his composure. "I can give you money if you'd just –"

They came to a stop at the 26th floor stairs. Kolyat arched an eye ridge and cocked his head down at Oriana as she looked around in question.

"Who said I was taking him to C-Sec?" Kolyat asked before sending the man sailing down the stairs with a flat-palmed blow to his back.

Oriana's mouth parted slightly as the man danced down the steps in an attempt to keep up with his own momentum. He ultimately failed at the last three and toppled over, rolling to the bottom accompanied by a stream of curses.

"Oh," she said after a beat.

"He'll be fine," Kolyat assured. There was a moment's silence before a pained _Fuck you!_ echoed back up to them. The corner of Kolyat's mouth curled and he crossed his banded arms and set his weight on one hip.

"Keep walking, you son of a bitch," he growled. With a curl of his fingers he nodded his striped head toward Oriana. "We're done here."

She looked back down the stairs and then up at Kolyat. Her grip on the drinks had been knuckle-white, but the color had since returned. "Let me guess... justice in the wards?"

"Bailey has other things to be concerned with," Kolyat explained while he motioned her back into hub. He, uh, kind of hoped Bailey _didn't_ hear about this... "If it can be done off-record, it's done." He wanted to add that the same logic had been applied to his personal situation, but the thought of bringing those memories up, and to Oriana, was... uncomfortable.

_( – "Put the gun down, son.")_

"Are stairs usually involved?" she wheedled.

"Uh... no." In retrospect that may not have been the best idea, but even Kolyat would admit he rarely had those.

Oriana's features softened and they moved away from the stairwell. After another pause, she handed Kolyat his long overdue drink. When she pulled back her hand the drell thought he saw a flash of red. "Illium wasn't that different," she observed. They came to a stop by a bench and she rubbed at her fingers. "Are you sure you won't get in trouble?"

"I'll remember his face," Kolyat growled. "I always will, and he knows it." A quick flutter of movement caught his attention and his striped lip tugged downward when he noticed Oriana still rubbing her hand. Impulse had him lead her to the bench with an inaudible rumble of his throat. She huffed and sat down with a prim fold of her legs.

"Don't we need to head back?" she asked when he sat down beside her. The wide seating felt less awkward than the cafe stools. He set his drink on the ground.

"We will." Scaled fingers picked at a clasp on his belt and Oriana watched in silence when Kolyat popped open a small compartment that was attached to his hip. She pursed her lips and set her drink beside his and he pulled out a gel-padded bandage and began to unwrap it, circling it a few times around his wrist before snapping it in half with a mutual twitch of his forearms. "Give me your hand," he instructed.

She eyed him. Kolyat nictated his inner eyelids and pinched his brow ridges together. His expression must have amused her because she smiled and slowly held out her hand. "Don't look at me like that," she said.

"Like what?" he muttered and took her hand. He was immediately struck by how light and pale her hand was compared to his own. Her nails, just as pale and delicate as the rest of her, lit at the vein of his wrist and a fluttery sensation exploded in his gut.

Hissing deep inside his throat – so that the human wouldn't hear – Kolyat then attempted to erect a mental wall between himself and the alien feelings this... well, _alien_ was eliciting in him.

"I think my hand grazed his teeth," she explained, sounding almost... embarrassed? She was never embarrassed. Her voice lilted. "It's not bad."

Kolyat hesitated. He had never done this before for anyone other than himself, and he felt self-conscious.

_("Kolyat, what have I told you about playing in the tide pools?" she asks, winding the thin strap of fabric around and around his tiny teal fingers – a sting, and then warmth as her hand covers his, the light from the window catching in sunset-colored eyes – she brings his hand up, kisses his splotchy-scaled fingers – "The rocks are sharp. You know that.")_

His hands moved to the memory, although he had to compensate for Oriana's unfused fingers. The damage was largely superficial – a shallow scrape threatening red across the top of her palm, and some bruised skin across the pads of her first two fingers. He gave her hand an experimental squeeze and noted how her thumb twitched in his grasp. He poked at the fleshy base and she made an uncomfortable noise.

"You're lucky it's not bleeding," he muttered. Part of him wanted to add a '_you idiot'_ to that observation, but, much to his growing dismay, he was too distracted by the way her fingers were so light against the deeper hue of his to do so. It was as fascinating as it was unnerving. Humans had so many fingers, and the way hers were splayed, all separated, reminded him of insect legs.

"I heal fast," she said. "This wasn't needed, you know." Her voice came from right beside his head. He could almost feel her breath against the crest of his right frill; he didn't look up because he didn't want to look at her, knowing in his gut that it would only welcome even more sensations that he wasn't prepared to deal with.

Shit.

"Let me handle it," he grumbled, offended.

"Okay, okay." There was something distant in her voice; her fingertips curled against his palm and he felt the skin on the back of his neck pull in a way he'd never experienced before. "...Do I really look like a dancer? Or a drug addict? Be honest."

One or two loops with the bandage would have done the trick, but Kolyat found himself doing another just for good measure. "How would I know?"

"I'd think... Never mind. I don't want to know."

The adrenaline of earlier was little more than fizz in Kolyat's bloodstream by then, and it left him feeling light-headed. He had to say something.

A chuff escaped his chest. "Your hands are so _tiny_," he complained (really? That was the best he could come up with?) while tucking the bandage under her palm.

"They're for delicate work," she shot back, although her voice lacked any venom. "You ever play the violin?"

"No," Kolyat answered in a way that let her know that was one of the dumbest questions anyone had ever asked him, ever, and by the way he had been asked a lot of dumb questions.

There was a laugh. This time Kolyat _did_ look up. Oriana was shaking her head.

"That's what I thought," she said. "Not bad for a first slap though, is it?" She raised her brows at him. "I'll be sure to practice for next time."

Kolyat opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it closed. There was a pleased tickling at the back of his throat that desperately wanted to escape and gods damn him if he was going to let it. He was suddenly hyper aware of just how close they were and just how warm her hand was in his and _why the hell was he even still holding her hand_–

He went to jerk away, thought better of it, and instead carefully extricated their fingers. The tickling in his throat intensified and he swallowed it back down. Kolyat was sure his frill was flushing again and he didn't know what to do about it or even how he should_ feel _about it and – and Oriana looked sort of _nice_ in this lighting, in a human way, and they always looked a little weird...

Kolyat cleared his throat. His companion looked up from her lap and something passed over her face as she did, her eyebrows lowering by the barest fraction when her eyes caught his. It was her _thinking_ face, as familiar to him as his scowl was to her. It had never been directed at him before and that alone made him nervous.

"Break's over," he blurted. Oh, gods. Even _he_ wanted to wince at that, but Oriana took it all in stride. She leaned back and brushed hair from her forehead with that familiar curving smile.

"I need to go pick up my omni-tool anyway," she said. "It has to be ready by now." They both reached for their drinks and froze, stooped over in front of each other. Wetting the back of his teeth with his tongue, Kolyat snatched his up first and looked away while she retrieved hers. The pair stood and straightened stray wrinkles from their clothes.

"Will you take the transit?" Kolyat asked.

"I'll walk," Oriana answered. "Saronis Applications is just downstairs."

For the second time that cycle, Kolyat felt the overwhelming urge to send his palm careening into his forehead. _Downstairs_... As in, the stairs to the 26th floor – the same stairs he'd unceremoniously dumped a very irritated man down not five minutes before.

He switched hands with his drink, recognizing the gesture as a nervous one mere moments after he'd done it. "Do I need to walk you or –"

_(She turns off his terminal – the sound of violins fades – when she turns he is watching, his lips pressed tight – "Do I need to walk you or something?" he asks, and her eyebrow shoots up – "Walk me?" she repeats.)_

"Or something?" Oriana finished. Her eyes flashed, but her expression was warm. "I don't think he'll bother me, not after the C-Sec-brand justice he was served earlier. So no, you are not going to walk me."

Kolyat scratched at his uniform collar and tried not to let the words stroke his very real male ego. He failed. "Ah, well," he began, annoyed at how much raspier his voice sounded all the sudden. "I'll see you, then."

"Sure." A hand touched his and his eyelids – all of them – flickered in quick succession. Oriana was looking up at him, the contours of her face still lit with subtle blues and oranges from overhead flashing banners. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

Didn't have to... _what_? Assault a man? Poke at her hand? Feel like an idiot? The tickling in Kolyat's throat prevented him from asking. He just managed to rasp a clipped "sure" before she turned and walked away.

Kolyat continued to stand in place for a number of heartbeats, aware of time slipping by and how Bailey was going to chew his ass out if he didn't double-time it back to his shift. Kolyat was aware of a lot of things; the banners, the lights, the noise, the weight of a drink on his hand, even the bodies all moving around him to the unwritten pulse of Zakera. He was also aware of the lingering warmth on his hand and how he made no effort to forget it, if such a thing was even possible.

Kolyat pinched hard at the plates of his forehead and swore under his breath to gods he wasn't sure he believed in, and still he didn't forget.

* * *

_Surveillance Transcript: 27th Floor of Zakera Wards Mid-Level C-Sec Office, Citadel_

_Sgt. Haron: Welcome back._  
_Kolyat Krios: [indistinguishable]_  
_SH: Must be morning on Kahje._  
_KK: Very funny._  
_Cpt. Armando-Owen Bailey: That so? Time to refill my cup, then.  
SH: [laughter] It's always morning somewhere.  
AOB: Krios, get over here.  
KK: What is it?  
AOB: You alright? You're looking a little pale around the frill.  
KK: I'm fine.  
SH: Heads up, Captain. Just got a discrete comm from our contact down one.  
AOB: What's he want?  
KK: I'll get the coffee.  
AOB: Woah there, I wasn't being serious.  
KK: For once...  
AOB: I'm a barrel full of chuckles, kid.  
SH: Captain, looks like someone nabbed some footage of Krios here.  
AOB: What?  
KK: What?  
AOB: What kind of footage?  
KK: I can-  
SH: Sounds dirty.  
AOB: Shit.  
KK: It's not-  
AOB: Tell our contact to nab it.  
SH: Transaction underway... now.  
AOB: You mind telling me what I should be expecting to see here in five minutes, son?  
KK: You don't understand!  
AOB: Someone snapped some incriminating footage of you and you don't think I'd understand? Where do you think I work, Krios?  
KK: I just-  
SH: Transaction complete. Contact is uploading file now.  
AOB: Tell 'em to do a reverse wipe.  
SH: Already done.  
AOB: Well?  
KK: I hit a guy.  
AOB: You hit a guy.  
KK: He deserved it.  
AOB: That so?  
KK: You don't believe me.  
AOB: You sure like narrating how you think other people feel. This a new thing of yours?  
KK: [indistinguishable]  
AOB: Sergeant, man my desk and get Laika on the scanners. Krios and I got some things to talk about.  
SH: On it, captain._

_Transcript end._


	7. I'm Not Sorry

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Mass Effect_.

I'd like to thank Tavanaka for his help with this chapter. :)  
Sorry about the delay. Friends convinced me to keep this chapter long to make up for it!

**

* * *

Scene Six**

I'm Not Sorry

* * *

_TO: Miranda Lawson (REDACTED)  
FROM: Oriana [Lawson]__ (the. fifth. adagio /a/ cit. mid-zakera. 712-w. block. net)  
SUBJECT: Just like you_

_Just because you don't respond to all my messages doesn't mean I'm going to stop sending them. Oh, stop. I know you too well. You don't want to complicate things for me. Well, life is complicated for normal people, too._

_I guess you'll want an "update" on my "status." You already know more about my life than I do, but it's the thought that counts, right? _

_I miss the big house we had back on [REDACTED], but the apartment I have here is nice. It feels bigger now that I'm alone. I'm going to finish unpacking all the boxes one of these days. You don't know how much stuff you have til you have to move it across the galaxy! I did unpack some of the paintings the other day. One of them was the bioluminescent piece from that hanar artist you recommended. You can't see any difference when the lights are on, but if you turn them off, the whole thing lights right up. _

_Okay, school. I got into Auxua and Larathos. At this rate I'll have a double-degree in co-dev before I'm 23. Maybe before I'm 22! Earth History is easier here. It's an extranet course so there are fewer, um... distractions. Aced a Genetic Theory II exam I had the other day, but you already knew that. I'm thinking about a minor in musical studies. What do you think?_

_Mom and dad are doing well in Tayseri. I don't think you could pull off another move without it feeling way too suspicious, because they've got a lot going for them here. And before you ask, yeah, I've made some friends. I hang out with some Auxua girls every week, and I still vidmail old friends back on Illium. One of them sent me a pack of vids the other day. I didn't recognize some of them. Vaenia? Ever heard of it? _

_As for Kolyat, we're making a lot of progress. He actually talks to me now! So does the captain. And don't give me a lecture about talking to strangers. They're not strangers any more. Have you been keeping up on Kolyat? Because if you heard about that one thing that happened, well it was totally understandable. Really. Don't go worrying his dad about it. I know it's none of my business, but he's a friend. _

_I know I was kind of frustrated in our last chat. I don't know how to deal with the whole galaxy saving thing, y'know? I've never had a sister before, and now that I have one I can't see her. It's frustrating._

_Take care of yourself. I know you won't let anyone else do it for you._

_- Ori_

_P.S. I told Bailey that he should delete any inquiries that you send him about me. He is not my babysitter, Randa! Stop asking him how I'm doing._

* * *

Oriana Lawson was no stranger to hanar, but the sight of two bioluminescent space jellyfish yelling at each other was new even for her.

Okay, _jellyfish_ was a rather crude nickname, and not one Oriana would ever use out loud. _Yelling_ might not be the most accurate word for what the hanar were doing, either. They were flashing a multitude of colors in quick succession while wriggling the ends of their tentacles back and forth at one another. If that wasn't yelling in hanar-speak, Oriana had no idea what else to call it.

At least Oriana was not alone in her bewilderment. She happened to be in the company of a friend, a fellow classmate from the Auxua School of the Arts in Tayseri. The other woman was not a native to Zakera and had been visiting extended family in the district. When her shuttle back to Tayseri had been delayed, she'd asked Oriana to pass the time with her while she waited for the next one. Thus the two human women happened to be in the right place at the right time to witness one of the rarest events known to the galaxy.

"Are those hanar arguing?" her friend asked. "Hanar _argue_?"

"I don't know," Oriana murmured as she finished the last sip of her Mannovian Macchiato. "_Do_ they?"

The question felt almost philosophical – no, almost _revolutionary_. Oriana filed it away in the back of her mind for use as a possible thesis later. "Can you understand anything they're saying?" she continued.

"No way," her friend whispered. "They're out of my translator's range, and I don't speak flash-ese." They were standing near one of the orange-lit alcoves opposite of the customs desk, a fair distance away from the two hanar in question. The other woman glanced up at the holographic schedule projected above their heads and pouted. "My shuttle's going to arrive any minute now. I don't want to miss a potential brawl."

Oriana heard herself giggle. "Can you imagine a bunch of security officers jumping on two hanar? That would go up on youvid in a heartbeat."

"You know what would be funnier? If the security officers were asari. Then it'd be like one of those nasty porn vids."

"Oh my God." Oriana's ribs hurt from trying to contain her laughter. "What would that be called?"

"_C-Sex: Pubic Misconduct._"

"Oh _God_."

Oriana and her friend weren't the only ones to take notice of the hanar. The human customs agent manning the registration desk was also throwing the two aliens wary looks, and a few minutes later she pulled aside an asari assistant who quickly disappeared back inside the 27th floor C-Sec lobby.

"I think they're going to get someone," Oriana murmured. "This is getting interesting."

"I hope it's more asari," the other woman grinned while tapping her wrist. "I have my omni-tool set to record and everything."

"I don't think – " Oriana froze when the door slid open to reveal a familiar figure. It was fortunate that she'd already finished her drink, otherwise she might have choked at what her friend said a split second later.

"Is that a drill?"

It took a full three seconds before Oriana could respond. "A... do you mean _drell_?"

"Oh. Yeah, one of those."

Another three seconds passed before Oriana burst into laughter. Luckily for her, it appeared that Kolyat Krios – for that was whom the asari had gone to fetch – hadn't yet taken notice of them. He'd approached the two hanar as soon as he'd left the building, with the asari customs assistant hot on his trail. The laughter was more than inconvenient, because it was difficult for Oriana to see what was going on when her vision was blurred with tears.

"Oh come on," her friend whined as Oriana made a valiant attempt to regain her composure. "How was I supposed to know?"

"You called him a _drill_."

"Close enough!"

"Not _even _close." Oriana giggled and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, double-checking to make sure she hadn't smeared any of her mascara. Now that she could focus, she saw that Kolyat and the two hanar were conversing. The normally withdrawn drell was gesturing with his hands, and judging by the way he kept turning back to the asari customs assistant, he must have been playing double-duty as the hanar's translator.

The sight struck a chord in Oriana. She didn't know why, but something about it made her heart feel... warm. So engrossed was she with watching Kolyat that she almost didn't hear the chime that announced the arrival of the next batch of shuttles.

"Sounds like my cue," her friend said with a sigh. "Looks like the show's over, anyway."

Oriana blinked and turned to smile at her classmate. "Yeah, too bad."

"Thanks for waiting with me." They exchanged a hug, careful to keep the buckles on the front of their jackets from getting entangled. Oriana made a mental note to change up her wardrobe. "I'll leave you to the jellies. And the drill."

"Oh, thanks." Oriana rolled her eyes and gave the other woman a friendly shove toward the shuttle that touched down across the pier. "You can take my Genetic Theory II notes for me next class. You know, in payment."

"Aww, cold, Oriana. That's cold." Her friend ducked into the shuttle and grinned. "See you then."

Oriana watched the shuttle rise and peel off into the Zakera skyway. Running a hand through her hair, she glanced across the dock to where Kolyat was still talking with the hanar (who appeared to have stopped their wild color-flashes.) Part of her wanted to say hi, but there was no way she was going to interrupt him now. Remembering the empty macchiato canister she still held in hand, Oriana headed back to the 27th floor lobby. Going back through the security scanners was a lot of work just to throw away a canister, but it was better than catching a cab and holding it all the way home, or even worse, _littering_.

Fortunately Haron, the turian sergeant in charge of the security scanners for that shift, was familiar with Oriana. When he saw it was her, he simply waved her through without activating the scan, which saved her at least sixty seconds of aimless thumb twiddling. Once back in the lobby, Oriana located a disposal bin and dropped the canister into it with a satisfied smile.

"Ah, Solheim," a familiar voice spoke up. "I need to have a word with you."

Oriana looked up with a start. Captain Bailey was seated across the lobby in his usual desk. He hadn't looked away from his terminal, but he did motion forward with a free hand.

"It'll only take a minute," the C-Sec captain continued.

The lobby itself was largely empty aside from a human officer who was filing reports on the far side of the room. Oriana took a measured breath; whatever this was about, it had to be of some importance for Bailey to single her out like this. Schooling her features, she approached the front of the captain's desk.

"I hope I've caught you at a good time," the older man said and looked up. The lobby lighting highlighted his wrinkles in the harshest way possible, but the bright blond of his hair and blue of his eyes made the veteran C-Sec officer look almost boyish. "I've been meaning to talk to you about certain... events."

Oriana felt her gut clench, but she maintained her composure. "Events?"

If this was about what she _thought_ it was about, then the only way their conversation could get more awkward was if –

"Hmm, Krios," Bailey greeted as he glanced over Oriana's shoulder. "Get over here."

…Crap.

Oriana turned around just in time to see Kolyat Krios enter the lobby from the dock. The drell's finned head turned at the sound of his name, and even Oriana didn't miss the way his eyes widened when he caught sight of her.

"Hey," she greeted. Kolyat wandered up to the other corner of Bailey's desk and nictated both sets of eyelids. Slowly – almost imperceptibly – his scowl transitioned into a frown.

"What is she doing here?" he demanded.

Oriana felt her eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"Don't mind him," Bailey chuckled from his seat. The older man squared his shoulders and kept his elbows planted on the desk. "The drell here is just nervous about his upcoming driver's test."

The question was out before Oriana could stop it. "Driving test?"

Kolyat squared his jaw and glowered at the floor.

"We'll get to that," Bailey explained. "But first things first." He gestured toward Kolyat and clasped his hands. "I've already had a nice chat with the drell about this, and now I need to have one with you."

"Don't bring her into this," Kolyat cut in. He loomed over the corner of Bailey's desk, his – what were those called? brow plates? browridges? – shifting forward in agitation. "She didn't do anything."

"According to you, she did," Bailey contested, and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "According to you, she hauled off and slapped someone, is that right?" The C-Sec captain was looking at her now.

Oh, crap. She'd dreaded this conversation. Oriana opened her mouth and took a sharp breath in preparation for her defense. "I –"

"This is a joke!" Kolyat cut in. The drell swiped his hand in a dismissive gesture and almost clipped the handle of a coffee mug that was sitting on Bailey's desk. The older human frowned and slid it out of reach. "I already told you –"

"We've had _our_ talk," Bailey said as he readjusted the mug's handle. His voice hadn't risen in volume, but the gravelly undertone was ringed in steel. Kolyat fell silent. "Miss Solheim can speak for herself."

Oriana glanced at Kolyat. He held her gaze for one heartbeat before looking away. "I did," she admitted. Miranda was going to be pissed_. _"Kolyat was only trying to help. I'm sorry."

The C-Sec captain appeared to scrutinize the back his knuckles before answering. "Don't be. We've had that guy in before." Bailey's lined face smoothed into a wry grin. "Hell, I wish I could have been there to see it."

Oriana felt her cheeks flush. "It wasn't anything special."

"The drell seemed impressed," Bailey said, and Kolyat huffed and folded his arms.

"Kolyat's not in trouble over the punching thing, is he?" Oriana asked. She was tempted to mention the whole pushing-down-the-stairs thing, too, but decided against it for _obvious_ reasons. "Did he know that guy had a record?"

"No, but we're going to pretend that he did," Bailey answered. Oriana didn't miss the fact that he had chosen not to address the first half of her question. The blond-haired man unclasped his hands and leaned forward. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I am." Oriana tried to catch Kolyat's eyes in an attempt to discern what was running through his head, but it was futile.

"So." Bailey settled back into his chair. "Now that we've gotten that settled, how do you feel about getting your driver's license renewed, Miss Solheim?"

"What?" Kolyat's black eyes widened in bewilderment. His arms dropped back to his sides. "Wait, don't you want to hear about the hanar?"

"I'll get your summary later," Bailey said. "Nobody died, and that's all I care about. What about it, Solheim?"

When Oriana had come to throw away an empty drink canister, she hadn't expected to turn into the object of attention. "I – me?"

Bailey shrugged. "You're here. You have somewhere better to be?"

"Well, I was... How did you know that I had a driver's license?"

"It's on your papers. It's also a year and two addresses out of date, according to your sister."

_Miranda._ She should have known that her twin would find out about her expired license. Oriana brushed a hand through her hair and frowned when her nails caught on a few stubborn strands. "Um... how does that work?"

"Citadel law requires that colonials re-take the driving portion of the test before renewal," the captain said. "The wait list is also as long as the distance from my desk to the nearest mass relay. It'd be months before you would get anywhere." Bailey pressed his lips together. "_Or_ you could bypass all the crap and take it today, local."

Oriana blinked. "You can do that?"

Bailey frowned and rubbed his calloused fingers. "When the most exciting event to happen on-shift involves hanar, you know it's a slow day. We don't get those much, and it's the only time I can spare the resources. Sgt. Haron will be administering the test for the drell. And for you, if you're interested."

"Is this part of your _job_?" Kolyat demanded. He re-folded his arms against the uniformed bands crossing his chest.

"Who do you think runs this station's transportation, son? C-Sec. You're lucky I'm nice enough to make things convenient for you, because you'll be _singing _for a skycar by the time I've got you on twenty-hour-a-week foot patrol." Bailey narrowed his eyes. "Minimum, if you keep acting out."

Kolyat balked. "Twenty hours?"

"When is the test?" Oriana persisted, ignoring Kolyat's outburst.

"Two cycles," Bailey said and turned back to his terminal. "Enough time to freshen up, or whatever you kids do. You'll meet the sergeant in the 25th floor garage. He'll have a skycar already picked out, and you can go from there."

Kolyat made that deep-chested chuffing sound that Oriana had heard a few times before. It still made the tiny hairs on her neck and arms stand on end. "This is stupid," he mumbled.

Oriana considered the offer. A license to pilot a skycar was hardly critical to her success; she doubted she would ever need to go somewhere where the transit stations couldn't take her, but at the same time, it was still a loose end. Maybe Miranda had a point. "Okay," she decided. "I could use a break."

"I wouldn't get too excited," Bailey snorted. "You're with the drell, after all." Oriana stifled a smile as she watched Kolyat tense his shoulders and mutter an obscenity under his breath. Bailey tapped a comm that was integrated into the port of his terminal. "Haron? Make that two in two. And be sure to pick out a nice color for them."

"Thanks for the offer," Oriana ventured. "And for letting me off easy."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Bailey grinned. "And try to be punctual, Krios. Haron's not going to wait around while you finish putting on _your_ makeup."

The following string of drellish expletives were too complex for Oriana's translator to handle, but she grinned anyway.

* * *

Hot pink was not Kolyat's color.

Such was the first thought that passed through Oriana's mind when she, Kolyat and Sgt. Haron met on the 25th floor dock two cycles later. The station there was more along the vein of a private garage than the transit hub on the floor above, and it was also less crowded, boasting a mere trickle of people coming and going on personal matters that didn't involve a check in at customs. It also meant that the vehicles were more personalized, not only in style, but in color. Sgt. Haron seemed to have... _particular tastes_ when it came to the latter.

"Is this yours?" Oriana asked the sergeant once their vehicle had been pointed out to them. It wasn't as sleek as the brands back on Nos Astra, but after another cursory glance Oriana decided that it was close enough.

"Yes," Haron answered. Oriana raised an eyebrow. Haron popped the skycar's hatch and powered down the private communicator that was clipped on the right side of his fringe. "Alright, let's get this over with. Who's going first?"

Kolyat Krios had done his best to look disinterested, but as soon as they'd approached the vehicle he'd started to fidget. It wasn't as overt as pacing, but every time Oriana glanced over at him the plates of his brow were twitching. It was fascinating to watch, at least until one remembered that those plates were his skin, and that every twitch was no doubt communicating a dozen didn't things that she wasn't picking up on because she wasn't a drell. It was an annoying thought.

"Kolyat can go first," she heard herself suggest. The drell was stalking around the front of the vehicle and giving it experimental taps with the tips of his fingers. The brilliant pink of the chassis flashed against the teal of his scales and the clash of color was enough to make Oriana's retinas burn.

No. Hot pink was definitely not his color, and he should never, ever be near it again.

"Get in, Krios," Haron instructed. "I'll walk you through it." When Kolyat didn't respond at once, the turian continued, "What, you don't know where the seat is?"

Kolyat glowered at the sergeant and stalked around to the driver's side. Oriana, assuming that Haron would want to sit in the passenger's side, began to slide into the back. She was stopped by a gloved talon on her arm.

"I'll sit in the back," Haron said. "Go sit in front with the drell."

Oriana blinked and recalled that turian superiors enjoyed placing themselves where they could keep an eye on all of their subordinates. Nodding her head, she moved around to the other seat. There was a sharp triple-click as the vehicle locked shut around them.

Kolyat looked even more uncomfortable inside the skycar than he had out of it. His tall frame was cramped in the interior and Oriana felt a wave of sympathy when she saw his knees bump against the dashboard. The drell swore to himself – a phrase her translator failed to translate – and rearranged his weight, locating a latch at the side of his armrest that eased the driver's seat back and down so that he could have more room to breathe. Oriana felt positively spacious by comparison. She stretched her legs and secured her safety harness.

"Alright, Krios," Haron began. "Start it up."

Oriana folded her hands in her lap and watched as Kolyat stared at the haptic adaptive interface situated in front of him. It was hard to keep track of what he was looking at, and the brief, directional flash of his pupils was all she had to go on. Oriana resisted the temptation to help and focused on keeping her mouth closed. She noticed he wasn't wearing force-feedback gloves - he must have had the microframe chips surgically implanted in his fingertips, much like she did.

Kolyat's brow ridges twitched once, followed by both sets of his eyelids. He positioned his hands on the navigation wheel and punched a few holograms that popped up at the proximity. The skycar hummed to life.

"Good job," Sgt. Haron said. Oriana could hear the turian's bulky armor shifting on the seat behind them. "No casualties yet. Take us up."

The skycar powered up and off the ground once its mass effect fields had engaged, and it occurred to Oriana that this might have been a bad idea.

"Bank out left," Haron was instructing. "Get in the Zakera Point lane. I need to make a drop-off."

Kolyat's face was little more than a mask as he peeled away from the garage and hummed over the hoods of a dozen idle vehicles. His striped biceps were pale with... anxiety? Hell if Oriana knew. All _she_ knew was that her stomach was starting to experience a very familiar sinking feeling, and when she looked out the non-tinted window of the skycar itself, her stomach nearly collapsed.

_Motion sickness._

Oriana clenched her hands together and swallowed. The skycar bobbed vertically as Kolyat urged it out from the dock and into the open skyway lanes of Zakera. The interface beneath his fused fingers blinked yellow as the skycar's V.I. locked onto the invisible transit grid that webbed its way along the entire ward arm.

"34e-E," Haron instructed as the light filtering through the Serpent Nebula above them blinked across the highway of traffic whisking by on either side of them. "Yield into 32c-N, then take the turn on the east lane."

"Where are we going?" Kolyat asked. His arms were still tense and his gaze was locked dead ahead. The warble of his voice was higher pitched than normal. He was nervous. Oriana wanted to reach over and pat him on the leg, but she realized that was a stupid idea for numerous reasons. For one, such a gesture would only piss Kolyat off and possibly send them careening into the side of the nearest building, or, if they were lucky, into an oncoming truck. There was also the possibility that she would simply puke on him instead. That would no doubt be the end of their friendship, and possibly her life.

Kolyat jerked the skycar into the 32c-N lane and the whole vehicle lurched up before pitching sideways in a seven-degree roll. It was a small bump, but Oriana still felt her body lurch against the seat and snap against the harness that was strapped across her chest.

"Easy!" Haron barked. His flanged voice was sharp.

"I _am_ easy!" Kolyat retorted and banked the skycar back into alignment. Oriana felt her butt slide against the reinforced leather of her seat. The dashboard seemed to swim in front of her eyes, and she swallowed again, blinking away tiny spots of white. She didn't even have the presence of mind to laugh when her translator offered an alternate interpretation of Kolyat's words.

"Calm down, drell. Now take the east lane."

The surrounding traffic was a blur of color that flashed by in rhythmic waves. Kolyat set the nav-link to east and eased into the appropriate lane when the terminal flashed green. The skycar still bobbed, but the movements were small. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into the headrest of her seat.

"Where are we going?" Kolyat asked again. His voice seemed to have regained most of its natural burr. Oriana focused on that and the gentle hum that resonated from the skycar itself. She could still see the flashes of light against the back of her eyelids, but her breathing had gotten steadier.

"The Zaheen Building, fourteenth floor, west side. After that, a warehouse, and then back to work," the turian answered. There was a shifting sound of armor on armor. "How are you holding up, Miss?"

Oriana's eyes popped open and she straightened in her seat. "Just tired," she lied, disoriented. It was odd not being able to see Haron as she was speaking to him. She could turn around, sure, but that seemed like it would be bad form. Instead Oriana focused on speaking into the empty space between her and Kolyat, and when she glanced at the drell, she saw him take his eyes from the nav-interface long enough to glance back at her.

"So," Oriana continued, feeling put on the spot. She rearranged her legs and frowned when her knee bumped against the dash. She was not going to puke. She was _not_ going to puke. "Did you take a test?"

"A test?" Kolyat repeated.

"You know, a written exam?"

"He didn't take it," Haron answered from behind them. Oriana felt her eyes widen in alarm.

"But isn't that..."

"Drell are an exception," Haron went on. "Perfect memory makes those types of exams a joke. They only learn through hands-on experience."

Oriana studied Kolyat's angular profile. "I'd never thought of that. Coursework would be a breeze... It must be nice."

"No," Kolyat mumbled. His gaze was far away. "It's not."

"Follow this bend," Haron interrupted, and the drell seemed to snap back to attention. Oriana felt a pang of guilt. "Stay focused."

A building loomed into view in front of them, and Kolyat edged the skycar near one of the jetting docks. There was an indiscernible hum as their generated field met the centrifugal pseudo-gravity that coated the Wards with a thin blanket of atmosphere. Oriana worried her hands together.

"Set us down under the pavilion." Haron pointed a gloved talon between their seats to indicate the spot. "By the red truck."

"There's an open spot on the side," Kolyat contested.

"Anyone can glide into a side lot. I want you to set us in vertical."

"That's a bunch of _sh_-"

"Do it, drell. And you'd better not make a scratch."

The skycar slowed and Oriana pressed her weight back into the seat. She hoped Kolyat didn't notice when she felt around for the emergency harness stored within the frame of the passenger door.

"Maybe we should-" Oriana's half-hearted protest was cut short by the force of her body slamming forward and then jettisoning back with a _whumph_. The skycar pitched wildly to the right before pivoting on its head when Kolyat nearly sailed right over the lot that Haron had pointed out.

"Spirits!" the sergeant swore as his fringe butted against the side of the driver's seat as the skycar lilted back up. "What are you trying to do?"

"You said park here," Kolyat deadpanned.

"You circle back around, not turn on a talon!"

Oriana swept hair from her face and realized her mouth was hanging open. She shut it and stared openly at Kolyat, and then Haron as he leaned in the space between them. The padded harness encircling her frame loosened as the skycar stabilized and settled into a gentle 180 degree turn. Kolyat glowered at the nav-screen in front of him and eased his elbows back as the vehicle descended.

There was a wisp of excess heat, and then a small click as the skycar touched down. Its terminal lit green and then faded to standby when the drell removed his hands.

Silence.

"That could only end well," Kolyat sneered.

"Sarcasm," Haron mimicked. "You've got a quad."

"No casualties yet," Oriana laughed. Her voice sounded small, but that might have had something to with the shock.

The sergeant rapped his talons on the back of Kolyat's headrest and popped the back door open. "Alright, you can stop clenching and relax. I'll be right back." The turian then maneuvered out of the vehicle, and Oriana could hear him mumbling to himself as he struggled to sidle through the very narrow gap between the side of the skycar and the flatbed truck they'd parked by.

Once Haron had gone, Oriana undid her harness and took a deep breath. Her stomach seemed to have settled along with the vehicle, and with a renewed intake of fresh air, she leaned against the side of her door and peered out the window at the rest of the dock. Glancing back at her wayward drell companion, she raised an eyebrow. "You didn't park straight on purpose."

"He could lose some weight," the drell mumbled. Oriana observed as he unclenched his hands and rubbed at the back of his knuckles. The teal scales were pale from exertion.

"You didn't do bad," she said. Kolyat looked up from his knuckles and shifted forward in his seat. "When you weren't doing bad on purpose, anyway."

Kolyat was quiet. Now that the skycar was idle, and the interface unlit, the most distracting thing around was the drell in front of her. Oriana looked down at her hands and rubbed at her wrists, but an alien sound made her look up again. Kolyat cleared his throat and stared ahead.

"Did you say something?" she asked.

Kolyat appeared to stare even harder at nothing in particular. "No," he grunted.

Oriana blinked and turned her attention to rubbing at her collarbone. The harness would prevent her from bruising, but she wouldn't be surprised if she had a red streak across her torso from where she'd lurched against it. She was halfway tempted to pull her shirt out and look to see if that was the case, but the hunched alien male next to her sent that idea sailing out the window. Talk about awkward.

"Yeah," Kolyat blurted after a few second's silence. "I – are you hurt?" He was staring at the tops of his knees.

"No. Just..." Oriana stopped when she saw the drell wince. It was such a small gesture, a brief flickering of muscle at the edge of his eyes, and she was surprised she noticed it. "I'm fine," she said instead.

"Sure," Kolyat muttered. He didn't look convinced.

"I'm being serious," she insisted. "The harness..." God, she should just come clean. "...Most of it's motion sickness."

Kolyat nictated. "Motion sickness?"

"Yeah, it's... it's kind of embarrassing." Oriana felt herself blushing. "I get sick in cars and elevators sometimes. It's not serious."

Kolyat leaned back in his seat, away from her, the ring of lighter skin encircling his eyes widening. "You'd better not -"

"What? No!"

Now Kolyat looked suspicious. One of his hands lit on the handle of his door. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not going to throw up on you." Oriana rolled her eyes. "We're not moving. You're safe."

Kolyat's hand moved away from the door and he appeared to relax.

"I've never told anyone that before," she continued. "Aside from my parents." She poked out her bottom lip when it dawned on her that Miranda probably knew as well.

Kolyat folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. "What about your friends?"

Oriana mimicked Kolyat's arm fold and crossed her legs. "Which friends?"

"Forget it," he mumbled as his arms tightened over his chest. He didn't look at her. "You humans can do that."

Oriana frowned but decided to leave Kolyat's comment unanswered. It was obviously bait and she wasn't in the mood for an argument. She leaned her right shoulder against the window and studied the small piers that jetted out from the sides of the fourteenth floor dock, and the occasional shuttle that whisked by overhead. Whatever Haron was doing, he was taking his sweet time. Or maybe time spent in a small space with Kolyat Krios just felt longer than usual.

"Why is Bailey making you do this, anyway?" Oriana asked. "Is it required or something?"

Kolyat chuffed. "No. He says I need to work on my _life skills_."

Well, Oriana wasn't going to argue with _that._ "You never drove back on Kahje?"

"I know how to pilot X3Ms - regular shuttles with automated controls. Skycars..." Kolyat's already black eyes darkened. "Kahje didn't-"

The skycar's chassis unlatched with a familiar click as Sgt. Haron hoisted himself back inside. "Sorry about the delay," he said, and Kolyat fell silent. "Next stop should be quicker. Which one of you is up next?"

Kolyat shifted in his seat. "I guess I can do it," Oriana offered. So much for their conversation... "Just to get it over with."

"Fine by me," Haron replied and secured his harness back in place.

While Kolyat was undoing his own harness, Oriana slid out and stepped outside. Glad to stretch her legs, she took a deep breath and pulled her arms over her head until her shoulders popped. The stretching made her feel renewed, and when Kolyat's head poked up from the other side of the skycar, she smiled and walked around the front to take his seat.

"Thought you could use a few minutes rest," she explained after he'd gotten out. The teal-scaled drell stepped around her, and Oriana was again struck by how broad he was.

"Don't get sick," he advised with a lip curl of disdain. "I'm still sitting by you."

"Arse," Oriana shot back. Kolyat had ducked around and was about to slide into the passenger's seat. "At least I can get away with driving a pink car."

Kolyat froze midway and poked his finned head over the roof of the vehicle. "What?"

"You have no idea what pink means to humans, do you?"

"Why should I care?"

Oriana shook her head as she maneuvered into the driver's seat. After a moment spent adjusting his own, Kolyat at last settled next to her. The skycar's hatch lowered and locked shut over their heads. "Yeah. Right," she drawled. "You're _so_ not going to look it up as soon as you get home."

"Stop pretending that you know me." Kolyat fumbled with the harnesses at his side. "Why is the emergency harness out?"

"Oh. It must have fallen out." There was no reason to tell him that for a split second there she'd been afraid for her life. There was a muffled _hff hff _sound from the backseat that sounded a lot like a turian trying not to chuckle. Kolyat glowered at her with an expression that said even a krogan was filled with less bullshit.

"Alright. Mubari Warehouse, twenty-second floor, east side," Haron instructed once he'd recovered. "Use the T.N.G. If you need it."

"T.N.G.?" Oriana asked.

"Transit navigation grid. It's the positioning system enabled in the dash."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." Oriana pursed her lips and set the skycar to engage as soon as the haptic interface leaped to life at her touch. The one she'd driven back on Nos Astra had been an Elkoss model, but it was very similar to the one she was in now. Secure in her knowledge, Oriana relaxed and let the skycar begin its ascent. The seat she was sitting in was warmer than she'd expected, and it was also pushed back farther than she needed it to be, courtesy of Kolyat. She pulled into a hover and adjusted the settings located under the armrest.

"All you have to do is get us there in one piece and you pass," Haron continued.

Oriana stretched her legs and hummed to herself as she peeled the skycar out of the dock and out into the open skyway of Zakera. "Okay. Sounds good," she said. The vehicle tilted when she turned into the nearest lane of traffic and she quickly adjusted its axis.

"What about me?" Kolyat ventured.

"Failed," Haron answered. "But you get one more chance to redeem yourself on the way back to our building. Don't screw it up, because I'm not doing this again."

Oriana's motion sickness had a habit of disappearing when she was the one driving. It was no doubt a product of several complex bio-chemical triggers that she couldn't be bothered to ponder. All she knew was that she was down one distraction, and as a result, she could pay more attention to the Citadel skyway. The numerous lanes of traffic were confusing at first glance, but once she realized that Zakera was really only one long ward arm split into evenly spaced districts, her sense of direction returned with an acuity that impressed even her. Zakera itself was nothing more than a formula, an equation, and math was one of her best subjects.

"Nice job," the sergeant said when she took a turn at an intersection without being told.

"It's a lot like Illium," Oriana explained, fighting a blush that threatened to make her lose her focus. "My dad works with shuttles, so I know how to-"

"Car," Kolyat pointed out.

Oriana narrowed her eyes at the dash, her previous point forgotten. "What?"

"There's a car."

"There are a lot of cars."

"I meant _that_ car," Kolyat snapped and pointed out the forward window to lane opposite them. "Are you going to slow down?"

Oriana spared a half-hearted glance. "I have right of way. Geeze, Kolyat, don't be such a backseat driv-"

"Car," Kolyat blurted, tensing in his seat. "Son of a bitch, the _CAR_-"

Oriana saw the flash of blue veer towards them out of the corner of her eye and slammed the heel of her hands into the nav-wheel a split second later. Their skycar lurched at the sudden decrease in speed but quickly corrected itself. The blue car dropped in front of them and continued on.

"Son of a _bitch_," Kolyat swore again, releasing his grip on the armrests. Oriana could hear her heart pounding in her ears, but that was about all she could hear.

She'd been cut off. In all her experience piloting a skycar, she had never been cut off. Not by _anyone_.

_No one. _

"Spirits," Haron grunted. "Did you catch the plate on that one, Krios?"

Kolyat nictated his inner eyelids twice. "Yeah, I saw it."

"Good. Recite it to me later so I can mail that bareface a nice warning."

Oriana ran her tongue across her lips and accelerated.

"What are you doing?" Kolyat rasped. His hands flew back to the armrests.

"Old human tradition," Oriana snapped, ignoring the alarmed look Kolyat aimed at her. Haron remained silent – as though he knew – but Oriana could still feel his presence behind her. The blue car was in front of them now, and Oriana pulled their skycar up into a loop that sent them sailing around it and to the left.

"What are you..." Kolyat fell silent when Oriana pulled parallel to the other vehicle, so close that she could see the semi-tinted windows, and flashes of the passengers inside.

"Roll down the window," she demanded.

Kolyat stared. "What – you _can't_. There's no atmosphere!"

Oh. Right. Citadel. Oriana pressed her lips together and non-tinted the windows. A bright shaft of unfiltered sunlight stabbed her in the corner of the eyes, but it was a small price to pay for what had to be an unobstructed view of her giving a proud one-fingered salute at the other car. That, coupled with an angry blare of her horn, was all she could spare before she peeled off toward the Mubari Warehouse.

The next few seconds passed in silence. A feeling of serenity settled over Oriana, and she found herself humming Neilsen's Fifth as she restored the windows to their normal setting. With the interior light once again dimmed, Kolyat's pupils were no longer so dilated, although the drell himself seemed to be having trouble remembering how to blink.

Oriana sent the skycar gliding in the Mubari Warehouse's twenty-second floor dock. Most of the piers were empty, so Oriana settled for one in the middle, near the nearest set of doors. There was a gentle hum followed by a click as they set down.

"I hope that didn't count off," Oriana said, and winced.

"You act like I've never flown with a human before," Haron replied, and Oriana was surprised by how amused the turian sounded. "I know all about road rage." He tapped the backs of their seats with a clawed talon and popped the hatch. "I've got to meet someone. Stay put."

The hatch slid shut, and Oriana watched Haron walk toward the entrance to the warehouse out the side of her window. A shifting noise brought her attention back to the seat next to her, or more specifically, the drell who was sitting in it.

"I think it was an elcor," Kolyat said.

Oriana blinked and pulled her hands from the dash. "You're kidding."

"I saw a..." Kolyat's inner eyelids nictated again. "A flash. It was elcor."

"Wow." Oriana poked out her bottom lip. "I didn't know elcor could be such jerks." Wait, that wasn't true. There had been that elcor who'd nearly bull-rushed her back at the Tayseri dock that one time... the bastard.

Kolyat looked at her lengthways. "Are you... normal?"

Oriana cleared her throat and fought a rush of heat that threatened to spread across her face and neck. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just a little upset."

Kolyat raised a brow ridge and glanced down at his hands. Oriana followed his gaze and felt equal parts amusement and embarrassment when she saw the drell flex his fused fingers, as though pondering what it must be like to be able to raise just one of them.

"I hope Miranda doesn't find out about that," Oriana said to no one in particular. "Don't tell her."

"I don't even talk to your sister."

"You don't have to. She has her ways of finding stuff out."

Kolyat looked up and raised his other brow ridge. "Haron's going to file that warning."

"Maybe he'll forget. Don't remind him."

"Right," Kolyat chuffed. "_Forgetting._"

"Earlier... you were talking about Kahje." Oriana leaned against the driver's side window and stretched her calves. "What was that about?"

Kolyat's eyelids flickered. The movement was so quick to cover such large eyes, and Oriana wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to it. "Kahje," he repeated. "Kahje is islands and bio-domes. The islands are small. Most transport occurs between them, through shuttles... boats... not inside them." There was a beat of silence, and Kolyat's voice dropped to an even raspier burr. "Drell don't travel much. You stay on Kahje or you leave." He locked eyes with Oriana. "For good."

"Oh. That makes sense." Oriana drew the back of her feet against her seat. Did Kolyat _want _to go back? It was a question a part of her yearned to ask, but the other part of her – the part that reminded Oriana of Miranda – cautioned against it.

_Ask another time. A better time._

A flash of movement drew Oriana's attention back to the window. She sat up straighter when she recognized Haron; the blue-armored sergeant appeared to be conversing with someone outside the warehouse doors. Judging by how relaxed Haron looked, it must have been what he'd come for. The other individual was a human man, but if Oriana squinted, it almost looked like half of his face was discolored by a fading bruise.

There was something... _familiar_ about that man. Oriana ducked from the window and glanced over at Kolyat, who was trying his best to get comfortable in the passenger's seat.

"Kolyat," she whispered and tugged at the sleeve of his uniform. She could feel the pebbly plane of his scales jump under the brush of her hand, and her heart fluttered. She filed the sensation away into the back of her mind for later consideration.

"What?" Kolyat demanded. He looked like he wanted to edge away from her sudden intrusion, but with nowhere to go, he was trapped.

Oriana inclined her head toward the window and kept her gaze locked on his. The drell's pupils were pale and sharp in the skycar's unlit interior, and the seat felt suddenly chill against her back. "Is that the same guy that you punched the other day?"

Kolyat glanced toward the window, his brow ridges pinching together. "What?"

"I trust your memory more than mine," Oriana explained. "Can you see him?"

There was a pause. Kolyat slid against his seat and leaned over so that he could look out the driver's side window. When he moved forward, Oriana found her gaze dancing from his face to his shoulders and arms and back again. He was broad, all uniform and dense muscle, and the cab felt suddenly small. She pressed her body back as Kolyat leaned his arms against her seat's armrests and peered passed her.

Light danced off both sets of his eyelids as he nictated. "It's him," he mumbled. Oriana stared at the violet ribbing of his jaw as it rippled with every consonant. "What is he doing here?"

"I don't know," Oriana answered. Her own voice sounded small. She wasn't sure how keen drell hearing was, and with side of Kolyat's head right in front of her, she didn't want to deafen him. She wondered where his earbuds were. Were they invisible? Would he be annoyed if she blew in his ear, like a cat?

Kolyat turned to look at her and Oriana found herself no longer scrutinizing the lining of his scalp, but the fine lines that radiated from beneath his luminous black eyes instead. Oriana blinked, startled at the closeness, and Kolyat quickly pulled away and fell back into his seat.

"Maybe," she continued once her heartbeat had resumed its usual rhythm. Fortunately, her mind was more composed than her body was. She stopped and considered her next words. "Maybe he works for Bailey?"

"Bailey?"

"Yeah." Oriana brushed hair out of her eyes and shifted her weight so that she was facing Kolyat. "Maybe he's a contact, and Haron is checking up on him. Y'know, to make sure he's behaving."

Kolyat's lip curled. "A red sand dealer?"

"It's not unheard of." Oriana worried the back of her lip against her teeth and tasted the sweet tang of her lip-balm. "That must have been awkward for Bailey to deal with."

Kolyat was silent for a number of heartbeats before he threw his finned head back against the headrest of his seat. "Who the hell knows."

Oriana fought a smile and looked out her window. "Just a theory." She sat up straighter when Sgt. Haron and his contact glanced back at their skycar. Looking over at her companion, Oriana reached out with her elbow and gave his own a nudge. "Hey, they're looking. Try to look sorry. Or broody."

The drell lolled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. "Why?"

"You're not sorry about rearranging his face?" When Kolyat's expression remained unchanged, Oriana smiled. "You're a good actor."

"Screw off," Kolyat grunted, but when he looked away Oriana could have sworn she saw the layered corners of his lips twitch upwards.

"I think you'd make a good Tybalt," Oriana continued and stretched her legs in front of her. She stifled a yawn and straightened the cuffs of her jacket. "That's Shakespeare. But don't look him up. You'd only be upset by the comparison."

Kolyat chuffed. The sound seemed to be amplified in the small space. "I'm not sorry."

"You made him bleed." Oriana's voice was lighthearted, but when Kolyat sat up and stared straight into her eyes with those unfathomable black eyes of his, she felt her throat tighten.

"He grabbed you."

"You don't think the punch was too much?"

Kolyat didn't blink. His pupils were two points of light set in a dark, striped face, and Oriana wasn't sure how much longer this staring contest could continue between them. Her skin felt hot, and she was starting to fidget.

"He got what he deserved," Kolyat said at last, and Oriana felt a rush of heat leave her cheeks when the drell looked away.

"Okay," Oriana conceded. She leaned toward Kolyat and pulled her knees up. The air around the drell still felt electrified, but he looked notably more relaxed. "So maybe he did. I just... didn't expect it. No one's ever done that before."

Kolyat tilted his head. The anger from his expression was gone, replaced by something more youthful, and his plated forehead was pushed up in what looked like confusion.

"I've never been in a situation like that," Oriana explained. It felt like her words were wanting to jumble inside her mouth. "I'm pretty good about looking out for myself, and..." _And Miranda is usually looking out for me, too._ "And I'm not used to the attention." When Kolyat looked even more confused, she clarified, "From guys, I mean. Guys that aren't creepy, like... like that guy was." She had _no idea_ what she was saying, and the lack of mental coherency annoyed her.

_It's like Danner Gossimah all over again. _

Danner. His face rose to her mind unbidden and Oriana felt her heart skip. Danner Gossimah... her old crush. She hadn't even had the courage to ask for his extranet address before she'd moved to Zakera. It had been months since she'd seen him...

"That doesn't make sense," Kolyat argued. "Are you not attractive, or something?"

Oriana's lips parted just enough to form a perfect 'o'. Kolyat was looking at her, his plated brow pinched together in what appeared to be deep thought.

"What?" she said. "What do you mean?"

"Are you not attractive?"

The memory of how Danner had always looked past her in class – like she hadn't even _existed_ – resurfaced with painful clarity. Oriana shoved it away. "That's not it. I just don't know how to talk to guys. Some guys."

To say that Kolyat looked skeptical would have been an understatement. "You talk to me. You won't leave me alone."

"Yeah, but you're... I don't think you..." Oriana ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. "It's different. There's not as much... it's just different."

_Different. _How could she struggle with approaching a handsome boy in one of her classes, but laugh over a bowl of pasta with an alien criminal? Maybe all the cheesy Dear Dinah advice columns were right. Maybe it was about being yourself and to hell with the consequences. Kolyat was a lot of things, but he'd never been dishonest. Sure, he'd lied over trivial stuff on more than one occasion, but he was _terrible_ at it. He was too obvious with his emotions, with his...

Oriana brushed the pad of her thumb over the place where Kolyat had once bandaged her hand.

… With his feelings.

"_You're_ different," she rectified, deciding that was closer to the truth. Her elbow was already leaning on the armrest, so it took minimal effort for her to brush the back of her knuckles against the splotchy stripe that ran down the length of Kolyat's arm. "And don't get mad. It's a compliment."

Kolyat didn't look angry. He looked surprised, and his lips parted uncertainly. "I'm a drell."

"I didn't mean you were a different species. That's obvious." Oriana eyed him and felt her smile widen. "I meant that you're a different kind of person."

A number of emotions flickered across Kolyat's face, each so quick and subtle that Oriana wondered if she'd imagined them. But no, her imagination had never been that good. Kolyat stared at the dash in front of him. The tips of his frill flushed a deep violet.

"That's..." His voice was quiet, so quiet that his words were almost drowned out by their own rumbling undertone. "That's a good thing?"

For the first time in her life – or maybe the second time in her life, counting the moment she'd seen her twin for the first time – Oriana could think of nothing to say. Nothing seemed _good_ enough. Her mind raced for something eloquent to reply with, something noble and soaring to make Kolyat feel better about himself. She came up empty.

"Sure," she said instead. "It... of course it is." She couldn't possibly sound any more cheesy, right? "_You're_ a good thing."

...Apparently, she could.

Kolyat's eyelids flicked closed. The sudden black-on-black was startling, and for a moment Oriana felt her pulse roar in her ears when her heart sped up. Had she said something wrong? Was Kolyat going to call her out on the sap?

The drell was still. But then, as suddenly as they'd closed, his eyes flicked open. Oriana felt herself tense, not because Kolyat looked angry, but because he looked...

Kolyat turned away and blinked multiple times, no doubt to mask the extra moisture that had built up around his lower eyelids. Oriana remained quiet and fiddled with the strap of her skirt. While she didn't fully understand what had just happened, there was no doubt that it had been profound, and her scaly companion needed a few moments to recover.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that the sound of the skycar's hatch sliding opened was almost enough to make her jump. Sgt. Haron plopped in the seat behind them and made a rattling sound that was the turian equivalent of a yawn.

"Alright," the sergeant announced. "Business done. Time to head back."

Oriana and Kolyat exchanged places without a word, and this time Oriana wasn't surprised by how warm the seat was when she slid into it. The effect was instantaneous; she heard herself yawn when she snapped her harness back in place, and didn't bother to adjust the seating. All the extra room meant she had more area to relax in. Now that her portion of the impromptu test was done, the entire situation felt surreal when she once more took up the role of passenger.

Kolyat looked at the nav-interface and nictated once before his hands moved up to take their proper positions. There was something familiar about the way he flicked the controls on and the sequence in which the lights lit, and Oriana didn't know what that _something_ was until Kolyat looked at her from the corner of his eye. The sense of deja vu struck hard, then – Kolyat was mimicking what she had done when _she'd_ piloted the skycar, and thanks to his species' perfect memory, his imitation was flawless.

Oriana worried her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled. The idea of Kolyat observing her so closely was a little unnerving, but the idea of him recalling her in that odd drell way of his was... well, it was also unnerving, but in a different way. A nice way.

_You're locked inside his head forever,_ her mind said as the skycar lifted from the pier. _You're more present in his mind than you ever were in Danner's._

Wait, wait. Why was she comparing them? She'd never done that before. Why the sudden fixation? The only thing Kolyat and her old crush had in common was...

A sudden flash of movement – other skycars – outside the passenger's window reminded Oriana of where she was. She made the mistake of looking down and felt her stomach slither behind her navel when the skyscrapers dropped off into a blurred nothingness thousands of feet below. Oriana pushed her back into the seat and tried to swallow the knot that formed in her throat.

"Close your eyes," an alien voice instructed, and Oriana spared a quick glance over at Kolyat. He was looking straight ahead, his body looking much more relaxed as he adjusted the angle of steering with a fluid roll of his wrists.

"What?"

"Doesn't that help?" he asked.

"Oh. It does," Oriana mumbled, realizing he was referring to her motion sickness. "I was just about to do that."

The vehicle hummed beneath her body, the warmth of it pulsing through her. The head of the seat was a solid presence against the back of her head, and after a quick brush through her hair, she closed her eyes and was lost in thought.

* * *

Something bumped against her cheek. It was a slight movement, but it was enough to make Oriana stir and furrow her eyebrows in disapproval. A mumbling sound reverberated in her ears, punctuated by an almost inaudible purr of a translator. Huh. Now that she thought about it, her cheek felt sort of squished, like she was lying against a-

Oriana's eyes snapped opened when she felt a rush of hot air scatter the bangs curling at her forehead. Had she fallen _asleep_?

Something heavy was moving her shoulder back and forth, but all Oriana could see was a splash of color amid two pools of black. She stared at this bizarre sight, trying to make sense of what it was, before she realized it was Kolyat. That energy boost she'd gotten from her macchiato must have worn off.

"Wake up," he repeated, annoyed. Oriana pushed off the seat and looked around, one of her hands flying up to rake through her bangs. Kolyat removed his own hand from her shoulder.

"What?" Oriana mumbled as her brain extricated itself from the fuzz of sleep. "How long was I-" She froze, quickly turning away to wipe a bit of drool that had collected in the corner of her mouth. Clearing her throat, she noticed that the world outside was no longer moving, and the skycar's hatch was open. They were in the 25th floor garage. Her entire right side felt hot, warmed from the unfiltered rays of the Widow from an overhead pane of glass.

"Are you going to get out?" Kolyat asked.

"Yeah, sure." Her cheek felt numb. Oriana massaged it with the pads of her fingers and blinked when she saw Kolyat rubbing his shoulder. There was a tiny wet spot, a speck of darker blue amid the rest of his uniform, and for a moment Oriana wondered – rather dully – if it had rained. Then she remembered the drool, and – and oh _God_.

Haron walked into view from the other side of the skycar as Kolyat got out. When the sergeant noticed Oriana hastily unlatching her harness he flared his mandibles in something resembling a smile. "Test's over, kids. Decent job getting us back, drell." The turian's already beady eyes narrowed further. "A big improvement."

Kolyat twitched his shoulders and ignored the sergeant, slamming the skycar's hatch closed once Oriana had slipped out. She straightened her dress and smiled at Kolyat, her fingers still resting on her cheek. The drell's throat seemed to bob as he looked away.

"I'll – go give that report on the hanar now," he mumbled and moved toward the 25th floor stairs.

"You do that," Haron said. He turned to Oriana. "Stop by our office in a few cycles. We'll have the license ready for you."

"Thanks," Oriana said, watching Kolyat leave. Her heart skipped a beat when the drell glanced back at her, his long strides faltering, before he quickly disappeared up the stairs.

Haron clicked his talons against the pink frame of the skycar. "He's a good kid," the turian observed. "Under everything else, anyway."

"I know," Oriana murmured, and was no longer surprised when she believed it.

_

* * *

TO: Commander Shepard (REDACTED)  
FROM: Oriana [Lawson] __  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: Guardian angels_

_I never got a chance to thank you for bringing my sister back safe. If it weren't for you then I would've never seen her again. I might not have seen her the first time. _

_I'm glad that you made it. Maybe there's someone looking out for you, too._

_- Oriana L._

_P.S. Randa, why don't you filter all the spam that Shepard gets? Since you read all the messages anyway._

-x-

_TO: Kolyat Krios __(__k. krios /a/ cit. mid-zakera. csec. m-2. sa)  
FROM: Oriana Solheim __  
SUBJECT: Quick question_

_Er, hi! Did you stop by the office to pick up the holo for your license? How did it turn out? Mine turned out okay. I look half asleep. An accurate portrayal, I guess._

_Anyway, I was wondering if you got yours, and if I could have a copy? I've got some empty holoframes sitting around the apartment that I need to fill. It's a human thing. Thought I would ask, even though I'm sure you'll say no. _

_ADDT: ATTACHMENT: _**_218696SeriesZakWCIVsolheim / hlo_**_ (__renamed:_**_ OriLicense_**_)__ Here's mine! My nose looks huge in profile... and I think I have a lazy eye. :(_

_Oh, and your e-mail is set to public, you know. This doesn't count as stalking. _

_Okay, only a little._

_- Ori_


	8. It's the Same

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Mass Effect_.

I'd like to thank LunaMax1214 for her help with this chapter. :)  
The number of jokes/references here makes my head spin. But hey, fluff before inevitable angst, right?

* * *

**Scene Seven**

It's the Same

* * *

_TO: Thane Krios (REDACTED)  
FROM: Kolyat Krios __(__k. krios /a/ cit. mid-zakera. csec. m-27. sa__)  
NOT SENT: DRAFT (3) KEYSTROKE LOG _

_it's kolyat.  
- SAVE PROGRESS  
one vidmail doesn't change the fact that  
- ERASE LINE  
i don't know what i expected from  
- ERASE LINE  
i got your letter.  
- SAVE PROGRESS  
there's nothing you can say that will make the last ten years better, but i know why you did it. i don't know what she saw in you but  
- PARTIAL LINE ERASE  
don't know what you see in me  
- PARTIAL LINE ERASE  
don't know what to say.  
- SAVE PROGRESS  
the next time you  
- ERASE LINE  
if you stop by the citadel maybe we could  
- ERASE LINE  
i'll still be where you left  
- ERASE LINE  
- SAVE DRAFT & EXIT._

_

* * *

_

At first Kolyat Krios thought he was losing his mind. When he first saw the tiny, darting shadows, he assumed they belonged to the machines that churned tirelessly throughout the 26th level warehouse. But, no... As he accumulated more and more experience doing odd jobs in the months following his incarceration, including working in the shipping warehouse, it became obvious that the network of machinery and the several-ton containers they hoisted couldn't be responsible.

Kolyat had his suspicions. Sometimes the shadows followed him through the aisles of packaged goods and greenery, but most of the time they were little more than flickers of color and shape that lurked in corners and under shelves. The warehouse guards – C-Sec officers, some retired – never seemed to pay much attention to them, and over time Kolyat began to wonder if the guards noticed the shadows at all.

The drell didn't have much time to waste thinking about it. Captain Bailey had made sure that Kolyat was kept busy ever since his "stunt" in the cafe all those weeks ago, but if it was a choice between scrubbing elcor piss off the Dark Star's bathroom floors or helping to sort and unload shipping containers in the warehouse, well, Kolyat had his preferences. Shipping containers didn't smell bad, for one, nor did they smear or accidentally _get in your eyes. _

Eidetic memory... it could be a bitch.

Kolyat nictated both sets of eyelids at the thought and continued picking his way through a series of reinforced crates that he'd helped sort earlier. The plastic had a faint earthy scent that clung to it, and it led Kolyat to check the manifest that had been attached to one of the boxes. The smell of earth was a rarity on the station, and Kolyat hummed deep in his throat as his eyes traveled over the script. Thessian nasaia seeds... most of which were supplemented by flash-frozen adult plants that could later be thawed. Most of the shipment would be going to the Zakera Point botanical garden, but as Kolyat set the datapad back down, he wasn't surprised to see many of the boxes were also en route to Tayseri Ward. It was part of the two-year restoration effort – an attempt to cover some of the ward's gaping wounds with pretty bulbs and flowers.

It wasn't something that Kolyat had an opinion on. If anything, it made him feel better that there were other people out there with less than perfect homes. At the same time, he couldn't deny that he was helping, even if his contributions were small. The thought made his chest warm, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't ignore the feeling.

_("_You're _a good thing.")_

Kolyat sighed. After switching the communicator attached to his belt to idle, he sat on top of one of the smaller containers and stretched his shoulders with a pained grimace. He'd never been a pushover, but constantly stooping and shoving giant crates around was enough to fray even the densest of muscles. Part of him was pleased by the pain, though - physical labor was a great way of exercising his frustration and keeping him from thinking. If he couldn't think, his thoughts couldn't turn inward... they couldn't turn _dark_.

It was only when he swiveled to better rotate his right arm that he saw it: A pale face, human, with large, curious eyes. It peeped at him from a stack of containers no more than a dozen paces away, but when he stopped and blinked his inner eyelids at it, it disappeared back among the crates.

Interesting.

Kolyat frowned and lifted his head in hopes of getting a better look, but was distracted when something shoved him in the arm. "Bitch!" he swore, jerking away from the – was that a _Tupari sports drink_?

The human holding the Tupari grinned and feigned poking him again. Kolyat curled his lip and growled, although the sound was so low that he doubted the human heard it. "Thought you could use a cold one," the warehouse worker explained. He gestured at the numerous Tuparis nestled in his arm. "God knows I got enough."

Kolyat rubbed at the spot on his arm that had been violated. "Why did you get so many?" he asked, and eyed the drinks with growing suspicion.

The human winced. "Went and got a bunch for the crew, but forgot that the turians need it dextro. Sucks to be them, huh?"

"I don't like Tupari."

"Well, shit. Can I just set these down here, then?"

Kolyat glanced down at the crate he was sitting on, the human, and then at the drinks the human was holding. He wanted to say no – he really, really did. Not because he hated the human, but because he hated that gods-damned Tupari vending machine to an extent that was not quite rational, and those drinks were its _spawn_. "I don't care," Kolyat heard his mouth say instead, and the human stooped down and started setting the drinks out one by one. The drell could only watch and sigh from the corners of his mouth. There was a time when he would have told the human to go to its human hell.

He was getting soft.

"If anyone wants one, tell 'em they're here," the human said and stood to brush off his pants. "Didn't know you didn't like 'em."

Kolyat was tempted to tell the man that he had never actually tried a Tupari, but that would involve explaining that he had a vendetta against an inanimate object. Kolyat cleared his throat and twitched his shoulders in a shrug instead.

"Wait," he said when the human went to turn away. "Have you seen any kids around here?"

The human blinked and rubbed at his wrinkled face. "What, kids?"

"I thought I saw -" Kolyat glanced out at the warehouse. It was high-roofed and lined with endless series of containers, most of which were in constant motion as they were pulled along a complex conveyor system that hummed from the ceiling overhead. "- I thought I saw some."

"No, we don't let kids anywhere near the ware... oh, wait. Duct rats?"

Kolyat looked up. "Duct rats?"

"Sure." The human motioned at the space around them. "Duct rats get into everything. They have a few hidey-holes around here that they use. They like seeing the stuff that gets shipped in. Some of the crew shifts leave food out for them now and then, though we're not supposed to."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

The man's face grew grim. "Lots of moving machinery and several-ton boxes being hauled around... yeah, it's dangerous. You normally don't see 'em, though."

Kolyat slid his hand down from his shoulder and looked over at the place where he'd noticed the human child. "I see them."

"Maybe they like you." When Kolyat narrowed his brow ridges, the human grinned and shook his head. "Sure, why not? You're a drell. I doubt many of 'em have seen one of your kind before."

Kolyat's gaze traveled to his hands and the scales that littered the lifelines of his palm. It made sense. No amount of blending in would ever change the fact that he was a stranger here.

"So," the human began. "Taking a break?"

Kolyat nictated and kneaded the broad scales of his forehead with his fingertips. "Yeah," he mumbled, peering up to check whether the human had caught him zoning out.

The man took a moment to wave at a group of salarian warehouse workers before turning back to look at Kolyat. "Can't say I expected to see you down here after you got transferred to Bailey. Still working service?"

Kolyat dragged the pads of his fingers down the strong curve of his nose. "For Bailey."

"I can think of worse bosses," the older man said. He popped open the lid of a Tupari and took a short sip. "I haven't seen the old dog around lately. He doin' okay?"

_(Bailey sits at his desk, face lined and careworn – dark circles – he sighs once, rubs a calloused hand against his forehead, stoops over a short list of names – _Zakera Officers Lost in Tayseri Ward Shootout_ headlined in red ink – )_

"He's been busy," Kolyat mumbled.

Silence followed. The older worker shifted. "It may not be voluntary," he said, "but we appreciate the help, especially with the mech shortage. Heard we lost a few over in the Factory District some months ago – Blue Suns stuff – and with that virus scare, our orders are a bit behind." He shrugged. "Anyway... Just wanted you to know."

Kolyat blinked his secondary eyelids and sat up straighter. "Yeah, uh..." Embarrassment trickled along the tips of his frill, coloring the skin there a fine violet. The rest of his response came out as muttered gibberish, but the other worker didn't appear to be paying attention. Kolyat stared at the floor. Damn it. He didn't know how to respond to something like that. It seemed like he never knew how to respond to –

_( – her hand touches his, small and hot – he nictates, startled, glancing at the bandage she wears – she looks at him, her face lit by overhead banners, all blues and reds on a pale face – "Thanks," she says. "You didn't have to." His throat tickles.)_

– to a _thank you._

"Anyway," the man continued, "Take a breather. And don't worry about the kids. They shouldn't bother you."

"I wasn't worried," Kolyat replied. He looked back to the palms of his hands when the human left to join the other warehouse workers across the room. He made no move to join the workers but instead chose to remain seated on his crate. Heavy-lifting was a chore even for drell, and the muscles of his back were starting to ache. Kolyat chuffed and flexed his fingers.

No one ever said atoning was easy. It certainly wasn't for his _father_.

Now bored, Kolyat decided to dig out his omni-tool; some aimless extranet browsing was as good a way as any to pass the time. He didn't have many applications programmed into the device other than a basic search and correspondence function, the latter of which he had never tried. It took a few seconds before the omni-tool found a suitable extranet network to patch into, which was expected. What wasn't expected was the private message that popped up upon activation.

_GET TO WORK!  
I've got eyes in places you don't even want to think about. Don't slack off.  
-Bailey_

Kolyat blinked. Then he looked over his shoulder, and then the opposite shoulder. Fairly certain that Bailey wouldn't materialize from the shadows any time soon, Kolyat exited that window. Gods. As if one blue-eyed stalker wasn't enough –

The lower left corner of the interface phased forward. Kolyat stared down at the blinking text with his hand frozen in mid-air.

CONTACT (OrianaS) HAS REQUESTED A CHAT. INITIATE?

What the_ hell_.

Kolyat glanced up and scanned his surroundings. The warehouse was still humming around him, and the workers were still chatting on the other side of the aisle from where he was. He even glanced back to where he'd caught sight of the orphan child, but nothing stirred behind the crates.

He was going to regret this.

A new screen overlapped the first. The text was small and it shimmered a faint orange, but if he angled the interface over the blue of his uniform, it became easier to see. Maybe, if he was lucky, his connection would cut out...

KK: [LOGIN][ONLINE]  
OR: [ONLINE]  
OR: Hey! Is that you..?

Kolyat took a deep breath and rubbed at the force-feedback microchips implanted beneath his fingertips. They made interacting with holograms much easier, but he halfway wished he could use the excuse that he hadn't had the surgery and had forgotten his interface gloves. With a slow exhale, he started to "type."

KK: this is kolyat.  
OR: Hey! I didn't know you chatted. Are you at home?  
KK: i don't. no. how did you get th  
OR: Oh. Working?  
KK: yes.  
OR: That's cool. I'm in class at Auxua. I've heard this lecture a million times, so I'm not missing anything.  
KK: class?  
OR: Xenocultural studies. We're studying asari. I know most of it already, living on Illium and all.

Kolyat squinted at the interface and became aware of a sharp pain building behind his jaw. He twitched it loose and rubbed at the side of his frill with a free hand. Something about disembodied text made him anxious – he'd never liked stuff like this, where people were forced to communicate without seeing one another. It meant that there was no body language, and that was enough to put any drell at a disadvantage.

OR: So... not a big talker?  
KK: no.  
OR: Just like Miranda. Are you in the lobby?  
KK: shipping warehouse.  
OR: The one on the 26th level?  
KK: yes.  
OR: I remember that place! We talked in the lobby once. It has that Tupari machine outside.  
KK: i remember.  
OR: I'm glad you're online. I was going to ask you about something.  
KK: me?  
OR: Do you, uh... know much about aquariums?

He should have shut it down right then and there.

KK: is this part of the lecture?  
OR: Er, no. Just wondering.

He was certainly not curious –

KK: what do you want to know?  
OR: I was wondering if you could help me.

What? He'd been helping half the Ward for the last full cycle. He had no interest in helping anyone else. Let them take care of their own –

KK: how?

Damn it.

OR: Could you help install a fish tank? Pleez.  
KK: why do  
OR: Pretty pleez?  
KK: pleez ?  
OR: Please?

Kolyat wasn't aware of how _intently_ he was staring at the interface until a mechanical chime startled him from his concentration. He lifted his chin and ignored the pull of his neck muscles, none of which were accustomed to being stooped over an omni-tool. The warehouse workers had begun to mill around, and Kolyat caught sight of the salarian manager in charge of the shift's shipments. The salarian flashed him two of his fingers and nodded at the nearest conveyor.

KK: i should go.  
OR: Pl... Aw. Okay.

At that moment, Oriana's face flashed in the forefront of Kolyat's mind, as real and tangible as life. A thousand different expressions flickered across her face – tiny pulls of her lips, quirks of her eyebrows, softening of her cheeks – each one a muddle of various memories he had of her that eventually blended into a mental image of her looking up at him with sad, blue eyes. The drell grimaced and swallowed the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. His fingers – his traitorous, teal-scaled, splotchy-striped fingers – twitched.

KK: i'll help you.

Kolyat glared down at his hand. _Traitor._

OR: Really?  
KK: yes. when?  
OR: Um... is [0.64 galactic standard cycles] good? That's when I'll be back home.  
KK: where?  
OR: My apartment.

The tickling in Kolyat's throat exploded outward. The next thing he knew, he was coughing, and the sound of it could best be described as the noise a varren would make if it had a chest cold. Kolyat fought to regain his composure and looked around, hoping that no one was paying attention. He could see that a couple of flat-bed X3M trucks had touched down across the warehouse and the rest of the workers were starting to help them unload the smaller containers. He had to hurry.

OR: That's not a problem, is it?  
KK: no.

Gods damn it.

OR: Do you know where I live?  
KK: i think so.  
OR: Next block over from yours, A#19. Just past the transit dock.  
KK: yes.  
OR: Thank you!

Kolyat scratched furiously at the strip of teal skin that separated his otherwise ribbed jaw. Always with the _thank you_s...

KK: don't thank me.

As he exited the chat and keyed off his omni-tool, Kolyat discovered that he had a new-found appreciation for disembodied text. Namely, that it was impossible for Oriana to see just how flustered he was. Nobody had invited him to their home since... since he'd lived on Kahje as a child, and he'd gone to visit a friend he'd had, once – before they'd died of Kepral's – and before_ she'd_ died...

Memories whirled in the back of Kolyat's mind. Gods, he thought he had moved beyond this sensitive crap. That sort of thing was for children, children who hadn't...

_(– a flurry of movement – two strong hands hold him up, whisk him around – laughter – "Spin me, father, spin me!")_

...who hadn't been through the things he'd been through.

_(– a cold hand, a still face – tears streak his cheeks, hotter than rain – she doesn't get up, she doesn't move –)_

Kolyat stood and straightened his uniform. Gathering up the Tupari that had been set beside him, he picked his way over to where he'd last seen the orphan – the duct rat – and knelt down. After extricating two of the drinks from the crook of his elbow, he sat them on the ground.

"Maybe _you'll_ like them," he murmured to no one in particular, and left to go back to work.

By the time he'd returned, the drinks had vanished.

* * *

When Kolyat had finished his first-shift duties and hitched a shuttle back to his apartment block, he was already _regretting_. He was regretting ever agreeing to help a human woman, and for that matter, he was starting to regret ever meeting her in the first place. There were other things he could be doing between shifts, like lying sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, marinating in boredom and bitterness. Or better yet, he could be skulking around the 27th floor lobby like he usually did, give or take some boredom and bitterness. But no. Now he had something_ else _to do.

Before heading to Oriana's residence, Kolyat stopped by his apartment long enough to change into some casual clothes. It had been a while since he'd been able to wear his leather for any length of time, and the sensation of it slipping across his scales was a welcome breath of relief. He pulled the black gloves binding his hands tight and cracked his knuckles one by one. Once dressed, he checked to make sure everything was still in place, and with a satisfied survey of his depressingly sparse apartment, he keyed the security lock and left.

Compared to the rest of Zakera Ward, Oriana's apartment was as good as next door to his own. It was a half-dozen complexes past the 712-block transit station, which was the same station that she used to commute to Tayseri and Kithoi Ward, and it was also the station Kolyat used to get to work. Most of the apartments looked the same from the outside, but as Kolyat approached the door designated A#19, it became increasingly obvious that Oriana's apartment might be a little _bigger_ than his.

He was certainly not jealous.

The holo-lock was green, but Kolyat hesitated on the threshold. He didn't know why he was so reluctant to march into her living room – it's not like there was a gods damned Thresher Maw sitting on her sofa or anything. But no matter how long he stared at the door, the invisible barrier separating him from his destination did not dissipate. He could almost hear it as a current that buzzed in the back of his earbuds, and he shook his head to clear it.

Stupid. This was _stupid_.

Gathering his resolve, Kolyat grit the flat of his teeth together and shoved his hand at the door's interface. It was at that exact moment that the door decided to slide open, and Kolyat's hand sailed straight past the threshold and froze mere inches from the rounded bumps of Oriana's chest. The human female's eyes widened. Kolyat felt his own mirror the action, and he jerked his hand back.

"_Amonkira_," he swore, "how about some warning?"

Oriana's eyes traveled down to his hand and then back to his face. "How long have you been standing out here?"

_Twenty seven seconds. _"I just got here," he retorted.

"Right," she drawled. Her painted lips curved in a smile. Kolyat made a conscious effort to focus on Oriana's face and not her protruding chest, partly because he had no interest looking down there in the first place, and partly because his frill was already inflamed with embarrassment. "Come in."

Oriana moved from the doorway and Kolyat's body followed. His mind felt detached, as though it were floating just outside of his skin, but when the door clicked closed behind them, it snapped back in place to the thundering of his heart.

An unfamiliar room greeted him. Line and shape seared into his memory as he studied the cream-colored sofas and gray-metal chairs that were interspersed by red pillows and a couple of potted plants. What looked to be paintings were stacked against one of the walls, and with each flick of his pupils another portion of the room was imprinted to memory, including the sensation of cool air against the fins of his scalp and the sound of Oriana's feet trekking across the floor. And there was another sound, a waning note that rose and fell from one of the terminals sitting on a far desk. It was music, Kolyat realized. The kind that Oriana liked.

_("Carl Nielsen's Symphony No. 5, _Adagio non troppo_. Do you like it?")_

"I've already got it unpacked," Oriana was saying. "Some of the transit workers helped bring it here for me. It's a little heavy..."

Kolyat closed both sets of eyelids and took a deep breath. Oriana's voice resonated as a soft hum in the back of his earbuds, accompanied by the symphonic melody that filled the room. He felt strangely _vulnerable_. It was a feeling that intensified when he next opened his eyes and met Oriana's gaze as she smiled at him from the kitchen stairwell. Her eyes looked even bluer indoors, and the individual tendrils of hair sprouting from her scalp even more distinct. She'd never looked more alien.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"About what?"

"My apartment."

Kolyat stood in the center of the main room and half-turned as he looked around. A wave of awkwardness assailed him; he kept his arms at his sides and well away from any furniture. "It's..." His mind blanked. "Dry."

"...Dry?"

It was then that Kolyat realized that he had no idea what humans took as a compliment when it came to their homes. "Drell like dry," he grumbled.

A tittering noise welled from Oriana's throat, and Kolyat realized she was giggling. "Can't say I expected that, but maybe I should have." She hesitated, and her expression became one of unease. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Kolyat shifted in place and frowned at how loud his boots sounded as they scraped across the floor. Either Oriana wasn't bothered by the noise or he was just being ridiculous, and judging by the way her face split into a rare teeth-baring smile, he was inclined to believe the latter.

"Come on," she laughed, and the next thing Kolyat knew she was at his side and her hand was pressing at the back of his shoulder as she herded him toward the stairwell. "_Relax_. I invited you, remember?"

Kolyat nictated at the warmth of her hand on his back. The pressure of her fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade made the skin on the back of his neck pull, and the tickling returned to his throat when she moved past him and gestured at a large box that sat on the floor of her kitchen.

"That's it," she said. Kolyat approached the box and studied the glass aquarium sitting inside. "It didn't look as big in the kiosk..."

"Where did you get this?"

"Citadel Souvenirs. Hey, do you want a drink?"

Kolyat looked up from the box and felt his pupils narrow to slits. "What kind of drink?"

Oriana leaned an elbow against one of the kitchen counters and propped her free hand against her hip. "Let's see. I've got some Tupari... some _elasa_..."

Kolyat poked the back of his teeth with his tongue and made a hiss of disgust. _Elasa_; that fruity asari liquor she'd given him for his 'housewarming.' "No thanks," he snapped, already tasting the sour sting of bile.

"I was just kidding. About the Tupari, anyway." She gave him a long look. "And I know you don't like _elasa_. You still have the bottles I gave you over three months ago."

Kolyat opened his mouth to say something, realized he had no idea what that something was (because the gods knew he wasn't going to tell her that he had the alcohol tolerance of an _infant_,) and promptly shut it. He stooped beside the box and worked on removing the tank instead.

"You can give it back, you know," Oriana continued. She pushed off from the counter and came to stand in front of the set of steps that separated the kitchen.

"How did you know I still had some?"

"I saw it."

Kolyat squinted over the glass of the tank. "You've been snooping through my cabinets?"

"I – no!" The human fluttered her eyelashes. "I wouldn't call it _snooping_..."

Kolyat gripped the top of the tank and hoisted it up and out of its storage box. The muscles of his back tightened in protest, as he was still sore from moving shipping containers, but the pain was little more than a dull throb by the time he'd levered the aquarium onto the cabinet that Oriana had been leaning on. She hurried to his side. "Where do you want it?" he asked and surveyed the main room.

"You can put it in there," Oriana said and pointed at an open shelf that jutted from the wall next to a cream-colored sofa. "I think that's where you're supposed to put it, anyway."

Kolyat scrutinized the space. "Will it fit?"

"It might be a bit tight... I've never tried putting one in before, but it should work."

"I'll shove it in if I have to," Kolyat snorted.

Oriana looked alarmed. "I'd try wiggling it first."

"I don't _wiggle_."

"You'll _wiggle_ it for me," Oriana replied hotly. She paused. "Oh."

"What?" Kolyat tilted his head in confusion as Oriana's shoulders began to shake. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she answered, and covered her rapidly reddening face with her hands. "I just – nothing."

Kolyat furrowed his brow ridges and reached up to rub one of the side-ridges of his scalp, where his translator chip was located. "Was it something I said?"

"Yes... No. Oh, God, I am not going to explain this." Oriana waved a hand at Kolyat's face and ducked past him. "Let's get this over with."

Kolyat tracked the movement of Oriana's back as she scuttled to the other side of the counter. "I can do this by myself," he protested.

"Maybe," she said, and poked her lower lip out. "I'm still going to help you."

Kolyat gripped one side of the tank and pulled it toward his chest. He wanted to argue – hell, his shoulders were hunched in preparation for a fight – but when Oriana gripped the other end of the tank and glared at him, he decided to let it slide. He was tired and sore. A confrontation could wait.

"If it makes you feel better," she continued, "you could consider this part of your community service."

"Funny," Kolyat deadpanned. He tugged the aquarium off the counter and stifled a grunt at its weight. To her credit, Oriana didn't even make a sound as she picked up the other end. Her lips pressed in a thin line as she worked to get a decent grip, and once she had braced the sides of the tank against the inside of her arms, the two of them began their awkward shuffle to the shelf.

"Can't people do this for you?" he asked. The corners of the fish tank were poking him in the ribs, but his attention was split between the shelf and Oriana. His pale gaze flicked over her arms, both white from strain, and her face, which was masked by free-falling strands of hair. Kolyat knew that humans were weaker than drell, and their females weaker than their males. Oriana's insistence on helping only fueled his irritation... and his concern.

"Yeah," she admitted, seemingly oblivious to his intense stare. They came to a stop parallel beside the shelf. Oriana flicked her head to the side and blew hair out of her eyes. "But installation costs extra. I'm trying to be responsible with my parents' money."

"So, you buy fish?"

"Not yet. And I'm not used to living alone." Oriana nodded and together they lifted the aquarium onto the shelf. "I need the company."

Kolyat straightened the tank and raised a brow ridge at the dark-haired human beside him. "_Fish_?"

Oriana tapped the top of the glass and winked at him. She didn't even appear winded, although there were faint lines of red on her arms from where she'd braced against the glass. "Jealous?"

He scowled. "No."

The human shrugged and took a step back to admire their handiwork. After adjusting the angle of the tank so that it sat flush with the edge of the wall, she started sliding her hands around the shelf's interior. "If you want the truth, I was hoping to minimize my paper trail."

Kolyat observed from an arm's length away. "Why?"

"Well..." Oriana returned to the aquarium's shipping box and came back with a filter and an assortment of plastic clasps. "It's a good idea, in general. That and my sister... I don't think she'd be crazy about the whole fish thing."

Oriana handed Kolyat a number of the clasps and gestured at the corners where the fish tank met the shelf. Twitching his shoulders in a shrug, Kolyat stooped down and started securing the two together. "Why would she care about that?" he asked.

There was the sound of metal clanking on glass as Oriana fussed with where to attach the filter to the top of the tank. "I don't think Miranda likes fish. She said that her commander – Shepard – owns some, and it's been the source of some... contention."

Kolyat peered up from under the sweep of his brow. From where he was squatting, all he could see of Oriana was the length of her dress, the underside of her arms as she worked, and the rhythmic heaving of her chest as it pressed against the glass of the tank. The tickling in the back of his throat returned yet again and he looked away, only to realize at the last minute that a pleased hum was reverberating deep within his chest cavity. Not for the first time, he found himself glad that humans couldn't hear it.

"Huh," Oriana muttered. "You feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"The tank was vibrating for a second there."

Kolyat fumbled with the locks and refused to look up. "I didn't feel anything," he lied. Gods _damn it_.

"That's weird. Anyway," Oriana continued, oblivious to the drell's plight, "the gist was that the commander dragged them halfway across the Traverse just so they could pick up some Prejek Paddle Fish." Kolyat felt his lips twitch. "Can you imagine?"

...Wait, was he _smiling_? No. Oh, _hell _no.

"Sounds stupid," he replied and schooled his expression back to its normal disgruntled state. He finished attaching the second lock, stood up, and retreated back to the stairwell where the box sat. After some digging, he retrieved the tank's adaptive interface. He returned and handed it to Oriana.

"I think it's cute," she said when he dropped the device – rather unceremoniously – into her open hand. She looked over her shoulder and grinned. "I find a lot of stupid things cute, I guess."

Kolyat was scratching at the sensitive strip of skin tucked beneath the side of his head ridges. It wasn't until a few more moments passed in silence that he realized Oriana was grinning at him. He turned his head toward her, his fused fingers freezing mid-motion, and blinked once.

"...That was a joke," she explained.

The drell dropped his hand from his scalp and pointed a finger at the human's chest – which he was still very upset with, by the way (he briefly considered adding _Oriana's breasts_ next to _Tupari machine, asari liquor, deadbeat fathers, vests, Bailey's smirk_ and _that one elcor_ on his mental list of Things To Hate.) "If you're implying -"

"I'm not implying anything!"

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing, I'm _smiling_." Oriana finished linking the tank's systems. "Finally. Now it just has to calibrate."

Kolyat snorted. "That's going to take forever."

"Only a few minutes," Oriana argued. "And can't you take a compliment?"

"That wasn't a compliment." In truth, Kolyat wasn't sure which he was more offended by: Being called stupid or being called cute. Humans found a lot of things "cute," like the sight of small, hairy vermin running on little plastic wheels. In his mind, it wasn't exactly high praise.

Oriana made a humming sound – it sounded more like a high trill to the drell – and took a step back. "Okay, try this, then: Your outfit looks... nice." She tapped a finger at her chin and looked him up and down. "And your jacket is... very supportive."

Kolyat set his jaw and crossed his arms across his chest. "It was my father's."

"Oh," she stumbled, her self-confident smile wavering. It was a small victory. "It still looks nice." Oriana's gaze flickered to Kolyat's chest, and the drell could almost feel it as a physical pressure that spread across the scales hidden beneath the leather. "...Is that a zipper?"

His hand had moved to touch the cool metal before she'd even finished the question. "Yes."

"You have two?"

Kolyat's hand dropped from his black under-leather to the blue outer-layer of his jumpsuit, and the second zipper that kept it pulled snug across the front of his chest. "Yes."

"How many layers of clothing are you _wearing_?"

_Under-leather, outer-leather, over-leather. _"Three," he answered, and frowned. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I've never noticed it before." Oriana's hand dropped from her face and her expression of amusement faded into one of concern. "Are you cold? I didn't think to adjust the temp –"

"It's fine," he interrupted. Kolyat rapped the back of his knuckles against the glass of the aquarium and suppressed a wince when the ensuing _TAP TAP TAP_ was a lot louder than he thought it would be. "Are we done?"

Oriana looked at the shelf and didn't answer right away. Instead she fidgeted, her fingertips winding methodical circles around each other. "You're not going to stay?"

Kolyat made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. While Oriana didn't _look_ upset, something in the way she looked at _him_ kept Kolyat anchored in place.

"Not long," he said at last. "I still have work to do."

Oriana blinked as though startled from thought. "I understand. Do you want a drink or something? The offer's still open."

Kolyat felt his shoulders slump in defeat. "No alcohol."

"No alcohol," Oriana promised, and held up her right hand. Kolyat quirked the plates of his brow when the human wiggled her smallest finger in his direction. "Pinky promise."

"Pinky..." Kolyat was cut off mid-sentence when Oriana reached down and looped said finger with his own. The startled hiss that escaped him must have made her jump, but she didn't pull away. Kolyat's scales prickled when she gave the finger a tug, and he looked down at their tentatively linked hands.

"It's a human thing," Oriana explained when he just _stared_. When he didn't stop staring, she continued, "I had a friend on Nos Astra who used to do it to me all the time."

"I... see." Kolyat's finger looked sad and flaccid against Oriana's own. By the time it occurred to him that he was supposed to reciprocate the tug, she had already pulled away. He curled his fingers and frowned when the black of his gloves no longer looked so black without the white of her skin to contrast it. "If you link more fingers, is it more serious?" he asked. Humans had so _many_ fingers...

"No," Oriana laughed, "because then you're just holding hands. That's seen as romantic."

_("You're lucky it's not bleeding," he mutters – the weight of her fingers, light and long, rest on his – all separate, all splayed, white on teal – )_

Kolyat rubbed at his glove and looked up to meet her eyes. "It's the same with drell."

The muscles of Oriana's face softened. "I guess some things are universal."

_( – her fingertips curl at his palm, her nails catching on his lifelines – the skin of his neck pulls, his heart thumps – noise and light around them, dull, subdued – "Do I really look like a dancer?" she asks. "Or a drug addict? Be honest.")_

A sudden thump followed by a mechanical whir snapped Kolyat from his reverie. Oriana mumbled something unintelligible and breezed past him. When he turned to see what was going on, he saw that she was flipping off the newly installed filter. "Looks like it's working," she said. Her expression brightened when she turned back around. "The next time you come over, it'll be full of water and fish, and you can see the fruits of your labor."

_Next time? _"I can't wait," Kolyat rasped with undisguised sarcasm. Oriana rolled her eyes.

"I bet you can't. Come on, have a seat somewhere. You have to be tired after working all day."

Memories of moving machinery and small, darting shadows fluttered through Kolyat's head. "It wasn't hard work," he contested, not liking the sympathetic head tilt that Oriana was giving him.

"It wasn't easy either, was it?" she pressed. When Kolyat didn't answer, she shook her head and reached out to slide her hand around the drell's wrist. "Sit."

The skin of Kolyat's neck tightened almost painfully at the touch, but it was followed by a warm feeling of numbness that seemed to creep up the back of his neck and out over his scalp. Kolyat nictated twice, almost sluggish, as Oriana tugged him over to a chair and gestured for him to sit. The weight of her hand slid away.

"Have you ever tried orange juice?" she asked. "Coffee?"

"Water."

When Oriana headed back toward the kitchen, Kolyat found himself hunching forward with his elbows on his knees. He wasn't used to being waited on, and part of him kept wanting to fidget and cast anxious looks at the door. The soft hum of music and Oriana's footsteps kept him rooted, and after a few more steadying breaths, Kolyat sat up and rubbed the remaining tension out of his arms.

Oriana was beside him a minute later, a glass of water in her hand. Kolyat took it after a second's pause and studied the way his splotchy facial markings reflected in the glass. Oriana flipped the tank's box onto its side and nudged it into one of the far corners with her foot. "You know..." she began, turning just as Kolyat pressed the tip of the glass to his lips. The water tasted like shit, but was normal for Citadel swill. "I was serious about taking back that _elasa_ I gave you."

Kolyat nearly choked. Wiping the corner of his mouth with the hem of his sleeve, he scowled. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

Oriana spread her arms and sighed so deeply that Kolyat felt the wet heat of her breath blast across his face. "Because it doesn't make any _sense_! Why do you want to keep it when you don't even drink it?"

Kolyat started to stand, intending to use his height to intimidate the smaller woman, but was stopped by a pair of hands descending on his shoulders. For a split second, Oriana's normally soft blue eyes were a spitting image of Captain Bailey's. The drell repressed a shudder.

"Fine," he snapped. His fingers closed around the bone of her wrists and pried her hands away, though the human gave no resistance. "It's an insult."

"What is?"

"Giving back a... gift."

_(He reaches for the package – passing over cloth and gun, coming to a stop over an unfamiliar holo, recoiling at the sight of a note – a thin hand scrawled in ink – "Was this my father's?" he asks his aunt. "Was this **his**?")_

Kolyat ignored the way his fingertips prickled at the memory and continued, "It's an insult to both hanar and drell."

"I didn't know," Oriana murmured. Her brow crinkled in what Kolyat interpreted as puzzlement. "Then what are you going to do with it?"

"Save it for you."

"That's... kind of sweet." Oriana tilted her head. "Maybe some of that hanar courtesy rubbed off on you after all."

Kolyat chuffed. "You haven't met many hanar."

"Well, no. But they seem nice." Oriana blinked. "Aside from those two I saw at the dock the other day."

"At the dock?" Kolyat's lip curled. "The two arguing?"

Oriana shifted her weight. "Yes."

"You saw that?" A horrifying thought occurred to him. "I was there. You were watching me?"

Oriana glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "There's no way I can answer that without sounding like a stalker, is there?"

"Why hide what you are?"

The human puckered her lips and snatched the now empty glass from his grip. "You're such an arse. I guess you won't tell me what they were arguing about, either?"

He considered it. "I could."

"You won't?"

"I've done enough for you today."

"_Arse_."

Kolyat twitched his shoulders and stood as she left to return the glass to the kitchen. "Get someone else to help you, then."

"Next time I will," she snapped, though her voice lacked venom. She set the glass on the counter and sauntered past Kolyat to the door. "It will be someone a lot nicer who only wears two layers of clothing."

Kolyat followed, casting one last glance around the room. The music from before had faded and a more energetic beat had taken its place. He decided he liked it less. "You want me to take one off?"

Sometimes words don't come out the way they're meant to. Sometimes things get lost in translation, translator or no translator. Sometimes there are these little niggling things called _implications_, often of the _unpleasant_ variety, and it wasn't until Oriana turned, her eyes wide, that Kolyat realized that this was one of those times.

_Crap, shit, crapshit._

Fortunately, Oriana's remarkable ability to adjust spared Kolyat any further embarrassment. She keyed open the door and shook her head. "With that many zippers? It would take you all day just to find them."

Kolyat scratched at his collar and stopped mid-way through the door. Oriana leaned her shoulder against the frame and lowered her eyebrows.

"Maybe next time..." Again with the _next time_. "...I can show you the rest of my place. I have this painting from a hanar artist you might like. I've been wanting a second opinion on it." She glanced away. "You know, when you have time."

Kolyat studied his boots. "Maybe." He couldn't care less about art, but he kept the thought to himself.

There were a few heartbeats of silence. One step would take Kolyat out of the doorway and on his way back to the precinct, but for some reason his legs had no desire to move. The floating feeling returned.

"I'll see you, then," she said after another three heartbeats. "Be careful."

Kolyat's gaze snapped up from his boots. "Why do you say that?"

She looked at him. "You never know."

Images flickered behind Kolyat's eyes: A pale-faced child, a shivering turian politician, a blood-stained face with two sunset-colored eyes...

_("Lots of moving machinery and several-ton boxes being hauled around... yeah, it's dangerous.")_

"I will," he replied, swallowing the bundle of emotion – not all of which he understood – that had risen in his throat. Oriana's painted lips curved in a smile.

"I'd ask for a pinky promise, but something tells me you'd refuse."

"You'd be right."

She stepped back into the apartment, her right hand on the door. "I'm always right," she said with a wink. "I thought you'd know that by now."

Kolyat nictated, but before he could formulate a reply, the door had already slid shut with a soft click. He studied the white and gray plastic instead, and after a few more seconds of thought, turned and walked away.

It was only later, after he'd hopped on the transit shuttle back to the precinct, that he realized maybe she was right about him, too.

_

* * *

TO: Mikel Kushnir (mouse /a/ cit. mid-zakera. 633-tr. block. net)  
FROM: Kolyat Krios  
SUBJECT: (no subject)_

_what do you know about duct rats?_

_- kolyat_

-x-

_TO: Oriana Solheim (the. fifth. adagio /a/ cit. mid-zakera. 712-w. block. net)  
FROM: Kolyat Krios  
SUBJECT: RE: Quick question_

_ATTACHMENT: **218696SeriesZakWCIVkrios / hlo **_

_mine._

_ADDT: no, you can't use it as a wallpaper._

_ADDT: no._

_- kolyat_


	9. Data Like You

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Mass Effect_.

I'd like to thank MyFix for her help with this chapter. :)

* * *

**Scene Eight**

Data Like You

* * *

Oriana Lawson did not cry. She'd never had reason to cry, because she'd had a good life. She didn't cry because tears would ruin the mascara she spent so long applying every time she got dressed. She didn't cry because... well, because she just _didn't_. So the warmth that pooled behind her eyes when she saw her adoptive father smiling at her from her terminal's live vidfeed couldn't have been tears, right?

Right?

"Good morning, Sunshine."

Oriana blinked the warmth away. "Hi, Dad."

Mr. Solheim's brown face split into a grin. "What? No 'good morning' for your old man?"

Oriana glanced out the view port that overlooked the main room of her apartment. The sofa she sat on was soft against her legs and back, and the lights around her were dim; the brightest thing in the room was the terminal. It washed her knees and cheeks in a warm orange glow, and while it provided no actual heat, it still made her feel warm all over.

"'Morning' doesn't really apply here, Dad," she pointed out. It was true, of course. On the Citadel, the light was always the same; a calm, soothing blue devoid of sunrise or sunset. It was the same shade of blue that emanated from her new aquarium, which was now filled with water and bulbs of alien coral and rock. She could hear the tank's soft, almost inaudible hum from her seat on the sofa. She was glad that she'd gotten it.

A throaty chuckle drew Oriana's attention back to the terminal in front of her. Mr. Solheim was still smiling, though the live feed occasionally rippled, sending lines scattering through his hologram. "Ah, of course," he said. "Aren't we_ literal _today."

Oriana leaned forward on her elbows with her chin propped against her hands. "The whole space station thing is hard to miss," she pointed out.

"That's true. Your mother and I are still adjusting our sleep patterns. You'd think we would have gotten used to it already."

"That's okay." Oriana dragged her pinky down the center of her lips to partially conceal a smile. "You're old. It may take a while."

"Hah! She was right, I see." Mr. Solheim reached up and stroked his chin. "You _have _gotten cheeky."

"She said that I act like you."

"Hmm. A compliment, then." Mr. Solheim clasped his hands together and tilted his head. The vidfeed that connected them wavered, causing his representation to flicker in and out. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Why would you think that? I've been awake for hours researching for a paper." Oriana's stomach twisted. "You know I wouldn't miss our weekly talks. That was part of the deal."

"Oh. I saw your pajamas and thought..."

Oriana's face popped up from her hand. She looked down at herself, or more specifically, at the long-sleeved cotton clothes she wore. Hundreds of tiny hanar patterned her pants, matching her pink socks, and the phrase "_ENKINDLE THIS!" _was scrawled across the front of her chest in matching pink script. Oriana felt a heat rise to her face, but she feigned a shrug, picking at the collar of her shirt.

"They're Blasto," she said.

"I didn't know you watched Blasto."

"The first movie was good, before all the sequels." When Oriana noticed her father's bemused look, she continued, "They're comfortable. And it's not like anyone's going to see me." (Okay, she had to admit, she was curious to see what a certain drell would think of the outfit, but that was irrelevant.)

Mr. Solheim raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Far be it for me to judge." He lowered his hands. "Your mother and I got a pamphlet from Auxua the other day, you know."

Oriana pulled her legs up so that she could sit cross-legged on the sofa. "You did? What about?"

"The Neylaya Theater is hosting a concert a few weeks from now, here in Tayseri. Looks like a student performance. Real classic Earth pieces, from what I understand."

Oriana picked at her nails and frowned when she realized that one had broken off unevenly. "Yeah. I was invited."

"Will you be performing?"

"I don't know." She poked at a cuticle, her lips puckering in thought. "They needed some more violinists, but... I don't know."

"It's something to think about. They'll be raising money for the Dilinaga Concert Hall. Could be fun."

"Maybe."

Mr. Solheim tapped his knuckles together. "I also got a nice call from a Mr. Sokir the other day. He said you were doing well in your classes."

The memory of the handsome Auxua representative came back with surprising clarity. "He's the one who gave me the tour of the school," Oriana replied. _Dimple guy._ "He's my advisor now."

"He seems nice."

"He's kind of creepy."

"Oriana..."

"He is!" Oriana waved one hand at nothing in particular and was no longer ashamed when the pink lettering on her shirt glittered whenever she moved. "He's one of those guys who stands too close to you in elevators, and you're not sure if he's_ aware_ of how weird it is, but then you wonder how he _couldn't_ be."

"Did he try to look down your shirt?"

"Dad!"

"I'm being serious. Do I need to file a complaint?" Mr. Solheim's holographic eyebrows raised. "Start a fight?"

The mental image of Kolyat's fist slamming into that drug dealer's face crossed Oriana's mind unbidden. She glanced down at her hand and flexed her fingers. She could almost remember the sting of flesh against her palm, and she wondered if either of them would ever live that encounter down. "I can take care of myself, you know," she said.

"I was joking." Mr. Solheim ran a hand through his dark, thinning hair and sighed. The sigh itself sounded more like a mechanical purr when filtered through the terminal's speakers. "At least, I think I was." The older man looked up, and small winkles webbed from the corners of his eyes. There was a beat of silence. "...I miss you. You know that, right?"

Oriana pulled her knees up to her chest. "Of course, Dad. I miss you, too." Her throat felt very small all the sudden, and she swallowed once, hard. "And mom." _And Miranda. She's off saving the galaxy, y__ou know. She could die._

Mr. Solheim cleared his throat and turned to scratch at the top of one of his eyebrows. Oriana looked down at her socks and blinked multiple times, not wanting to see her dad's watering eyes. Her own eyelashes felt sticky, and the warmth from earlier returned. She brushed her eyes with the back of her hand and took a quick breath.

She was not going to cry. She was _not _going to cry.

"And you know that I love you, right?"

"I know, Dad." Her voice sounded more composed than she felt. "I'll visit soon. I promise."

"That's my girl." Oriana brought her gaze back up and met her adoptive father's approving face. She brushed the back of her hand over her eyes again and wiped the tiny streaks of wet against the bottom of her shirt. "Have you spoken with that sister of yours?" he continued.

"A little." Oriana shifted her weight against the sofa and took another steadying breath. "She's been busy."

"How is she doing?" This time Mr. Solheim's dark gaze narrowed. "She seemed nice enough, but..."

The lump of emotion returned to Oriana's throat. She fiddled with her socks but kept her gaze locked on her father's. He had no idea just how much she knew. He had no idea what Miranda did, or how much Miranda had done in the past – for Oriana. For all of them.

No one knew. No... no one but Kolyat Krios knew. It was better that way.

"I don't know," Oriana answered. "She works with sensitive stuff. You know how that goes." _I wish._

"I see."

Paranoid that their conversation could veer onto a subject that she wasn't prepared to deal with, Oriana decided to change the topic. "I got a fish tank."

Mr. Solheim blinked. "A fish tank?" he asked.

While her father couldn't see the aquarium itself, as it was out of range of her terminal's visual feed, Oriana still gestured in its direction. "Yeah. It's really soothing. Almost puts me to sleep, especially when I have Nielsen playing in the background."

"What sort of fish do you have?"

"Uh..." Oriana glanced over at the tank. "None at the moment. I keep forgetting to pick some up."

"Was it much trouble to install?"

Oriana's lips curved into a smile before she could stop them. "No. I had some help from a friend." _His name is Kolyat, dad. Really nice, scowls a lot, and would probably have something to say about me forgetting things. He has perfect memory, see? And I... sort of like him. I mean, as a person. And also, you know... like that. In that way. You remember Danner Gossimah? Like that, but different. Way different.  
_

Yes. Some things were better left unsaid.

"Empty aquariums are so sad looking, Sunshine. If you need a few extra credits to pick up a turtle or something..."

"They don't sell turtles, Dad," Oriana laughed. "And I'll pick up some fish today, if it'll make you feel better."

Mr. Solheim grinned. "It would. I'd like knowing that you're not alone over there."

"I'm not alone. I have friends."

"Right, right." Mr. Solheim pretended to roll his eyes as he flapped a hand at the view screen. "I get it. You don't need your old man any more. Big college kid. Full grown woman."

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it's not working."

"Regardless, I would like to meet some of these friends one day. I'd like to know who my daughter spends her time with."

Oriana's heart raced. _Sure, dad, meet my friends. Here are some of my classmates. Oh, and here are some of my extranet buddies. Oh, that guy? He's a drell. No, he definitely doesn't have a criminal history or __anything. _"Maybe we can arrange something."

"I'd like that." Mr. Solheim glanced at something off to his side. "Ah, damn."

Oriana set her chin on her knees and hugged her arms across her chest to fight the sudden chill. "Do you have to go?"

Her father glanced back at the view screen and smiled. "This district will be down for repairs. They need me to help oversee a few of the shuttles." He glanced down at his wrist-mounted communicator and chuckled. "Looks like a few of the transits are going to be behind schedule. Won't your mother be thrilled."

Oriana experienced a pang of disappointment and struggled to keep it from showing in her face. "Power grid?"

"Yes. We're testing the new network. A lot of the maintenance workers are being harassed by Keepers, so we're trying to get the repairs finished ASAP." The older man shuddered. "I never will get used to those things."

Oriana stretched her legs and leaned forward. "I understand. Tell Mom that I said hi."

"I will. And that you love her, too, even if you love me more."

"Keep dreaming, Dad."

Mr. Solheim studied her for a long moment. His smile brightened, and Oriana fought to reciprocate it. "Always do," he said. "Let me know if you change your mind about the concert."

Oriana nodded, and before she knew it, the live feed had gone dim and her father had disappeared, replaced by empty static and blinking orange text.

CONNECTION ENDED.

A few minutes of silence passed before Oriana moved forward and exited the window. The orange text and static faded to nothing.

_Bye._

Oriana opened the extranet bookmarks she'd been looking at before she'd been sidetracked by her father's weekly vid-call. Multiple searches popped into view along with a saved draft of a term paper that she'd been outlining. Oriana tabbed between all of these things, restless, aware of the sudden chill that made her fingers tremble. She should check her temperature. She should study. She should...

SRCH: EXT: XENOCULTURE, COLONY DEVELOPMENT  
ADV. SRCH: HANAR, DRELL, RELIC SYSTEM  
MEDIA: NEWSFEED, ARTICLES...

Tab.

CIT/ ILLUMINATED NEWS/ SABOTAGE OF MINING EQUIPMENT ON BEACH THUNDER CAUSE FOR CONCERN...

Tab.

CIT/ ILLUMINATED NEWS/ TWO DRELL ENFORCERS LOST IN RECENT SKIRMISH AGAINST BLOOD PACK ON ROUGH TIDE...

Tab.

SRCH: EXT: HUMANS, COLONY DEVELOPMENT  
ADV. SRCH: MISSING, TERMINUS  
MEDIA: ANY...

Tab.

CIT NEWS/ NO LEADS AS YET ANOTHER COLONY GOES MISSING IN THE...

Quick tab; exit.

The room felt small, suddenly; small, and dark, and quiet. Oriana swallowed, the light from the terminal blurring in her vision.

_I'd like knowing that you're not alone over there._

And that's when the tears came.

She was glad that she hadn't had classes that cycle. She was glad because that meant she hadn't had reason to apply her make-up, and so she let the tears fall uninterrupted. There were no loud sobs, no shivers or hiccuping sniffles. Oriana merely drew her knees up and pressed her forehead against the back of her legs. The pressure of the contact spread to the back of her head and helped to soothe the dull ache that throbbed behind her eyes, and the tears themselves fell silently down her cheeks and onto the cotton of her Blasto pajama bottoms.

Oriana Lawson did not cry. At least, she didn't cry _often_, and when she did, no one ever saw her do it.

It was better that way.

Oriana shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. She was sure that her pale skin was flushed an ugly red, but she didn't care. Not then, anyway. She had to get a hold of herself. She had things to do.

She did _not _cry.

Resolute, Oriana slipped from the sofa and paced the main room of her apartment, patting at her arms and trying to focus. She trekked past the fish tank and into the kitchen where she got a glass of water, although she did pause and consider the remaining canisters of_ elasa _that sat on one of the beverage shelves. Miranda and Kolyat always came to mind when she saw that drink; it was strange how such a simple thing could remind her of such different people. When Oriana looked back at the fish tank, she found herself smiling and rubbing the remaining salty tear streaks from her cheeks when she realized that the coral inside was the same shade of blue-green as Kolyat's scales.

What a funny coincidence.

A small chime drew her attention back to her terminal. Oriana frowned, puzzled, and left her water by the sink before returning to the sofa. Her extranet inbox was flashing, and when she pulled up her e-mail account, her heart skipped a beat.

_(1) NEW MESSAGE FROM: Miranda Lawson._

Holy crap. Either her sister was the most incredible stalker ever (something that wouldn't surprise Oriana one bit) or this was another grand coincidence in a long line of grand coincidences. She hesitated for only a moment before opening the e-mail, too numb from her earlier tears to feel much of anything besides a dull pang of anxiety.

She hoped it wasn't bad news. She wasn't sure if she was in the right state of mind to deal with anything else, but she began reading anyway, throwing caution to the wind.  
_  
__TO: Oriana L. (the. fifth. adagio /a/ cit. mid-zakera. 712-w. block. net)__  
__FROM: Miranda Lawson (REDACTED) __  
__SUBJECT: RE: Just like you.__  
__  
__It's been some time since we last __spoke. I'm glad to hear that you've settled in. This wasn't what I wanted for you, but it was necessary. I hope you understand; it's not something I can discuss.__  
__  
__My associates and I have been taking care of a few loose ends in the Terminus. It's nothing w__e can't handle, but that's no excuse for recklessness. I can't say more without compromising our mission. But know that no matter the task, you are my utmost priority._

So far, so good..._  
__  
__The degree programs for Larathos and Auxua appear to be __satisfactory. I trust that you have made friends. However, that Granger girl in your Genetic Theory course has a history of misdemeanors in three different Tayseri districts, and according to my sources, she sits no less than two desks away from you. I've __already made the arrangements for her to be moved to another classroom. It's my understanding that you were not friends, so the disturbance should be minimal. You're smart, Ori. You know how to be careful.__  
__  
__That said, I'm concerned about the drell._

Oriana felt her throat clench. Miranda didn't know, did she? There was no way Miranda could know!  
_  
__He's not known for his wise decisions. If he starts trouble again, try not to get involved. I know how you are: it's admirable, but you're the only sister I have. __I may not approve of his presence in your life, but that's your decision to make.__  
__  
_Oriana released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She was safe.

_Know only that you are in no way obligated to sustain ties with Kolyat Krios, either for the val__ue of his connections, or to keep us updated on his condition. Sere Krios and his son are in contact and have been for some time. A third party isn't necessary._

Oh, geeze. Miranda made everything sound so _clinical_. Oriana ran the nail of her pinky across her bottom lip as her eyes dropped down the rest of the message.  
_  
__If we keep to our current schedule then we may dock at the Citadel within the month. I am unable to plot an exact date at this time, but while the Commander takes care of business I thought __we could catch up. I've been looking up Zakera restaurants; we can work out the details once I get there.__  
__  
__Take care, Ori. I'm still watching out for you.__  
__  
__- Miranda_

_ADDT: It's come to my attention that you have a research paper due. Studies show that the__re is a significant increase in performance for students who choose to address projects before their due date. If you are in need of source material, references, or media, then I can grant you access to my personal library, as well as links to resource cen__ters available where you live._

Oriana fell back into the cushions of the sofa and raked her fingers across her scalp. She stared at the screen of her terminal, then at the far wall, and then back at the terminal. The dull throbbing in her head returned.

A month.

The Terminus. School. Kolyat.

_A month._ Oriana had lived most of her life not even knowing she had a sister. Things had changed since then; a month now felt almost _imminent_. She now had an entire month to plan, to hope, to –

Oriana's hands fell from her hair. Her mind was racing. Her entire world had been given a kick in the ass (albeit a nice kick) and she couldn't even begin to express why, because _no one would understand_. Wait, no, that wasn't true. Kolyat. Kolyat would understand, wouldn't he? He knew about her sister's mission. His father was a part of it. Did this mean his father was coming, too? Did Kolyat know about any of this? He never mentioned keeping in touch with his father, much less how much he knew about what their family members were up to...

_That said, I'm concerned about the drell._

Oriana re-read that line and caught herself frowning. Kolyat was her friend. It wasn't like she had any designs on him; he could take care of himself. But for some reason, Miranda's opinion on their friendship felt... important. But how would that work? How the hell do you introduce someone like Kolyat to... well, anyone?

She studied the screen for what felt like a long time, though she doubted it was more than eight seconds or so. She studied it until she didn't even see it any more. The uneasy, constricting feeling from earlier blossomed in her chest, and she took a calculated breath. Oriana remembered thinking what it would be like to introduce someone like Kolyat to her father – her parents – and what she would say. She knew the answer now, and the answer was simple: She didn't know what she would say, because she _didn't know_ _Kolyat._

Oh, of course she _knew_ him. But did she know enough? She'd been working off context clues and bits and pieces of information from Bailey and her sister for months now, and it wasn't enough. Not anymore. Not after the conversation in the skycar, when he'd looked at her like _that_, and they'd made that _connection_, and he'd mentioned Kahje and...

...and without her parents, or her sister... he was all she had, really. At least when it came to the things Oriana had to keep secret from everyone else, including all the frustrations she felt. For a split second, she wondered if he understood what it was like to just... _cry._

Oriana traced the edge of the terminal with a nail and glanced at the list of extranet contacts that blinked in one of the corner windows. Most of the handles belonged to classmates or friends that had become long-distance after her moves. Many of the icons were offline, and others were set to away (some people were no doubt working on that paper that was due... what over-achievers.) And there, in the farthest corner, was Kolyat's icon, also a dim gray. He was working, no doubt. He was also a jerk who rarely signed in to begin with.

But an idea was forming. It was an idea that had been festering ever since she'd chatted with him not long ago, about the aquarium, and had gotten a chance to look through his chat profile. It had been innocent curiosity, mostly (she was _not_ a stalker,) but she had taken a look at his list of extranet contacts (_not a stalker_) and stumbled upon a familiar name: Mikel Kushnir. A quick extranet search had revealed him to be a small-time informant of sorts, a guy with a thing for illegal V.I.s who operated under a single alias: _Mouse._

Sitting up, Oriana studied the terminal in front of her. Maybe this Mouse knew something? It was hard to imagine Kolyat having friends, but there was obviously a connection. Oriana opened a tab and tried a few links, sure that his contact information would be difficult to find, and was surprised when she found it less than five clicks later. Apparently this Mouse was well-known in Zakera Ward, and had a few familiar haunts.

It wasn't long before she was copying his contact information onto a private OSD – the same OSD that housed the info for the information broker she'd used to get Commander Shepard's e-mail address. Oriana chewed at her bottom lip and curled her fingers around the unassuming packet of data. If all else failed and Mouse wasn't around, she could at least see if Kolyat was, and ask him if he'd gotten word about the _Normandy_.

There was a soft thump of feet against the floor as Oriana powered off the terminal and left the sofa. She entered her room, dodged a few misplaced paintings and her violin case, and grabbed the first dress she saw, a matching mini-jacket, and a stick of mascara.

It was better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself, she decided. That and she kinda missed that stupid drell, too...

* * *

This was not at all what she'd expected, she decided.

"_I delete data like you on the way to real errors!"_

When Oriana thought about informants and illegal technologies, she usually imagined secluded areas, subdued lighting and subtle smiles. Even the information broker she'd worked with in the past had arranged meetings from the back table of a classy cafe. In this case, Oriana learned that Mouse was more of a courier than an informant, and he also happened to operate right outside the 28th floor Dark Star Lounge in one of the public extranet booths. You know, where everyone and their nathak could see you.

Oh, yeah. And that illegal technology?

"_I delete data like you you you youyouyouyou –"_

"It's not bad for a work in progress," Oriana offered when the dirt-smudged human in front of her gave his omni-tool a violent shake. "It... looks just like Commander Shepard?"

The V.I. blinked in and out of focus before it leapt back into position in the space above Mouse's omni-tool. Mouse smiled nervously and glanced up at Oriana from the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah," he muttered over the distant thrum of music and chatter from the Dark Star. "Yeah, we've got some volus working on it." His gaze dropped back down to the miniature Commander Shepard that sauntered above his wrist. His eyes narrowed. "Still."

"You said the Commander has one, too?" Oriana wondered aloud as she watched the hologram flicker and loop back and forth. It was a bit hard to see against the luminous walls that made up the Dark Star Lounge's many alcoves, but the visage and armor was unmistakable. A titillating thought began to take shape in her head, and Oriana found herself perking an eyebrow. "I wonder if Kolyat would hate me if I got one of these for his apartment..."

A surprised sound accompanied the movement of her companion's free hand to his neck. "You know Krios' kid?" he asked while scratching at the edge of an uneven hairline.

Oriana had been taken so off-guard by the nature of their meeting that she'd forgotten what her original purpose had been. Looking at Mouse now, the entire idea seemed silly; whatever relationship he had with the drell was far from normal. She relaxed her stance and brushed a curl of dark hair from her face before answering. "Kolyat? Yes, I know him." She put on her most charming smile. "Do you?"

Mouse lowered his omni-tool and picked at a loose string on his sleeve. "I know him." His eyes flickered to her – nervous, calculating. He cocked his head back and studied her from the top of his nose. "I know a lot of people."

"Must come in handy," Oriana observed as her companion keyed his omni-tool off. The imitation Shepard disappeared in a flash of code. A few beats of silence passed, and when she didn't press the issue further, Mouse seemed to relax. His elbows sagged at his sides.

"Me 'n Krios, that's need-to-know," Mouse began. His lips pressed together in a way that made him look far too boyish for his age. "So don't take it the wrong way if I don't say nothing."

Oriana maintained her smile. "I won't."

"You friends?" the other human continued. Mouse's voice had dropped to a more conversational level. His voice was already soft, and the ambient hum of the Dark Star threatened to swallow his words. Oriana found herself tilting her head in order to hear him clearly.

"Friends?" she asked. "With Kolyat?"

"Yeah." The other human's cheeks looked redder than she remembered.

"Sure. I consider him a friend," she answered. If Kolyat were present he'd no doubt be glowering at her. The mental image of the teal-scaled drell hovering over her in disapproval made the corner of Oriana's mouth twitch upwards.

"Didn't think he had many friends," Mouse said with a thoughtful furrow of his brow. "Guess I – oh _shit_!"

He pivoted backwards, nearly whacking his shoulder against the wall. The sudden movement made Oriana jump, startled; her hands flew up to mirror Mouse's when his arms shot up from his sides. Once she realized that they weren't being attacked, Oriana frowned in puzzlement and let her arms fall.

"Shit," he repeated as his gaze darted all over her.

Oriana blinked and folded her arms across her chest self-consciously. "What is it?"

"I didn't mean nothing," Mouse insisted as he rocked back on his heels. A second later his hands dropped as well. "I didn't know you were... You know I didn't mean nothing, right?"

Oriana's thin eyebrows – or at least the one that wasn't hidden by bangs – rose. "What? Mikel," she soothed, pulling on her most comforting smile. "You're just showing me a V.I."

"My name is Mouse," he argued, his cheeks flushing even hotter – whether out of shame or anger, it was impossible to tell. "Nobody calls me Mikel. Not anymore."

"Okay, fine," Oriana said. She glanced around at the 28th hub on instinct; a number of laughing turian patrons had exited the Lounge and two asari were talking near a corner, but nobody seemed to have noticed them yet. "I'm sorry."

Mouse's shoulders slumped. "It's fine," he muttered and started to wring his hands again. Blue light played off the cracked skin of his knuckles. "Just saying. I wasn't gonna try anything."

What the hell was he talking about? "Don't worry about it. Not sure what you mean, but..."

Mouse shook his head and waved his palms outward. "I mean _Krios_. I don't want him to have something in for me because I talked to his..." He grimaced. "You."

Oh.

..._Oh_.

This was one of those times where Oriana couldn't formulate a reply as fast as she wanted to, so she plowed ahead, hoping that the embarrassment she felt didn't show in her face. "Kolyat's never given you trouble before, has he?"

There was a beat of silence. "No," Mouse admitted when he retrieved the datapad that contained his shipping orders. He glanced up at her side-long.

"You're friends, aren't you?" she pressed. "You said you knew him."

The other human set his jaw, no doubt considering how much information he was willing to divulge. A gaggle of half-drunk salarians stumbled past them from the Lounge and nearly tripped on their way up the stairs. Oriana and Mouse watched them go; once they had, Mouse turned back to face her. "I set him up with a job once," he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his eyes went downcast, and he frowned.

"Then I don't think you have anything to worry about." Oriana gestured toward the datapad in Mouse's hand and tried to ignore the half-glances he kept shooting her. "So how much will it be?"

Mouse perked up, his eyes brightening. "Oh, shit. You're still buying?"

Oh, why the hell not. She'd splurged on dumber things, like fish tanks. And Blasto pajamas. The amount of makeup she owned was questionable, too... "Why not?"

The answer appeared to please Mouse immensely. Emboldened, he straightened his shoulders and turned his attention back to the datapad in his hand. Oriana observed him in silence; he had unusually gnarled and calloused hands for someone little older than herself. She wondered if he'd always done stuff like this for a living.

Mouse's face pinched. The datapad flicked off and he looked at Oriana over the frayed hem of his sleeve. "Look," he began, his free hand traveling to the back of his neck again. "I owe Krios for a thing or two..."

He trailed off. Oriana felt her heartbeat quicken; was this what she'd been waiting for?

"You're in debt?" she asked when Mouse seemed unwilling to continue. The boy coughed, still scratching at the back of his neck.

"No," Mouse explained. He took a few steps forward. Then he turned and took a few steps back, his gaze roaming back and forth across the alloy of the floor. He looked distressed. "Not money. I got him into trouble. Didn't mean to... I thought I was doing right by someone, but I wasn't."

Oriana felt herself smile and wring her hands together in front of her abdomen. "It doesn't sound like it was your fault."

Mouse swiveled. "Krios never told you?"

"I..." Damn. There was no right way to answer this, only the way that would provide her the most information. "He doesn't talk about it much."

"When you get involved with the big people, the shit is always big. He got out alright, though. Better than most. You just find them floating outside an airlock..."

Oriana's eyes widened. Mouse seemed to notice and stopped mid-sentence.

"Anyway," he continued, clearing his throat, "he always did right by me. And if you know Krios – either Krios – then you're alright by me, too. Tell you what. I'll let you have one for free."

Unable to restrain herself, Oriana grinned. "The fact that these VIs are still faulty wouldn't have anything to do with this discount, would it?"

A sour look marked Mouse's response. "We're _working_ on it."

"I was kidding. But really, you should save your favors for things that matter."

The skin of Mouse's ears flushed a bright pink as he dug through the pockets of his belt. "Look, I want to, alright?" He shoved a small OSD in her direction. Hesitating, she took it. "Just take it."

"Thank you," Oriana fumbled as she slipped the OSD into her jacket. She didn't know what else to say; this hadn't been part of her plan.

"How'd you find me, anyway?" Mouse asked with a dismissive wave. "Krios' contacts?"

"Sort of. That and the extranet." Noting the strained pull of the informant's face, Oriana quickly added, "You have a good rep, if it makes a difference. And your image search had flattering mug shots."

"Oh, great." He ran a hand over his scalp and winced. He gestured at the data he'd given her. "Tell Kri... Kolyat that it was on me."

An uneasy feeling poked around in her gut and kept her rooted in place. Worrying the bottom of her lip against her teeth, she spoke up as Mouse signed off a few things on his datapad. "We're not together. Kolyat and I, I mean. That's not what you thought, is it..?"

Damn. Her stomach was doing that clenching thing again. Mouse's head jerked toward the sound of her voice and he blinked at her with large, round eyes, his confusion evident on his face.

"You're not? ...Oh, _shit_." He drew his hands up with his datapad still clasped in one of them. "My bad. I didn't know. I just thought..."

She was going to regret this, she just _knew _it. "Why? Has he... mentioned me?"

Mouse continued to avoid eye contact and shrugged, feigning indifference when he tossed the datapad over one hand and tried to catch it with the other. He almost missed. "I've seen you two around. Heard about the cafe thing." For the first time since she'd met him, Mouse smiled, though it vanished as fast as it had appeared. His expression sobered. "He's just been acting different, is all. Didn't know if it was Bailey, or... shit, I don't know. We don't talk."

Oriana suppressed a wince. Was her and Kolyat's relationship that obvious, or did it have more to do with how mismatched they looked? In her time on the Citadel, she'd learned that very few things turned heads in the Wards. "That's okay. I only wanted to clarify in case word got back to Kolyat." She laughed away her uncertainty and shook her head, the fine crop of her hair brushing against the collar of her jacket. "That might be... awkward."

Mouse winced as he went to scratch at his neck again, seemed to remember he was still holding the datapad, and then gave up. "Yeah, got it."

Fingering the OSD in her pocket, Oriana stepped away from the alcove and toward the entryway of the Dark Star Lounge. The very floor seemed to pulse with an alien bass, and she squinted at the bright lights that hummed from the walls and banners littering the club's entrance. The lounges back in Nos Astra seemed quiet in retrospect. "You should talk to him sometime," she said before thinking. She turned back to Mouse. "He could use another friend."

"Maybe." Mouse didn't look convinced. He rolled the datapad back and forth against the palms of his hands. "He's not the friendliest guy."

"That's not true." Of all the things Oriana thought she'd ever argue, this _had_ to be one of the most ironic. She made a scissoring gesture with two of her fingers. "You just have to work him a little."

Mouse stared, first at her hands and then up to her face. "You _sure_ you're not together?"

Oriana brought her hands to her hips and narrowed her eyes. "Very funny."

Mouse pinched the datapad between his hands and let out a shallow breath. "I'll think about it. Krios, that's... stuff happens to Krioses. I heard about Bailey, too."

Oriana felt her fingers stiffen at her waist. "What about Bailey?"

"I heard some things went down – big things. Someone cleaning house." Mouse looked up. "Heard Bailey might have to leave."

"I haven't heard anything about that." There was a note of irritation in Oriana's voice – she didn't like not _knowing things_. It was a part of her that reminded her of, well, her sister. Maybe she was more like Miranda than she cared to admit? She _had_ noticed an increase in her bust size, and her dresses _were_ getting kind of tight around her ass...

Mouse edged back. "I'm just a messenger," he said. "I don't know nothing but what people tell me." He shrugged. "Stay here long enough, you learn to not ask questions, and wait for it to show up on the vid."

Oriana sucked at her bottom lip and ignored the sweet tang of the lip balm she wore. Bailey... The blond-haired C-Sec officer _had_ been absent of late, but Oriana's was less concerned with Bailey than she was with Kolyat. The drell was hard to read at the best of times, but even Oriana recognized the unique relationship he shared with the human captain.

It was one more thing to ask Kolyat about, she supposed. The thought stirred her from the silence that had descended between them. Mouse stopped picking at the datapad when Oriana smiled and held out her hand.

"Sorry for dropping by without warning," she said. "I know you're busy. It was nice talking with you."

Mouse's look of suspicion faded when he stared down at Oriana's fine-boned hand. She resisted the urge to pull her hand back – more out of embarrassment than anything – and nodded her head in encouragement. A moment later Mouse threw back his shoulders and reciprocated the gesture with a grip so light, she barely felt it.

"Yeah," he managed, not looking her in the face. His hand darted back to his side. "You, too."

"Watch yourself," she added, and wondered why she kept saying things like that of late. She was starting to sound like her dad...

The informant flashed her his palms and backed away toward the open hub. "Sure, sure," he said. "I always do. At least until a Krios gets involved." Oriana rolled her eyes. "Enjoy the V.I."

And just like that he was gone, swallowed up by a group of uniformed turian patrons who were passing under the shimmering banners to the Dark Star Lounge. Oriana blinked and tried to track his movements in the crowd, but the search soon proved futile. Even when she stepped out into the hub, away from the alcove, and strained to look at all the possible exits and entrances on the 28th floor, it still didn't help; he was simply _gone_.

_Duct rat_, some of his extranet information had said. It was a term Oriana had never heard before coming to the station, and she was beginning to understand what it meant. A sense of alienation swept over her; she was so... fortunate. It was hard enough relating to Kolyat sometimes, even without the species barrier.

_Kolyat. _That drell still owed her a conversation.

Oriana raked another hand through her hair and began walking from the entrance to the Lounge. The music thrummed at her back and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but she ignored the temptation to turn around and go inside. She'd made the effort to come out here when she should have been studying, so she should see it through.

Fate appeared to have other plans, however. The first thing Oriana saw when she approached the stairs to the 27th floor was a group of partially inebriated humans standing in front of a large elcor. Oriana slowed down and blinked, straining up on her tip-toes to see what was going on.

"Come on, hurry up!" a man was complaining. The elcor swiveled in place, its bulky form blocking most of the stairs as it stooped low and picked at the ground with thick, unwieldy hands. The violet caparison it wore tickled something in Oriana's memory, but she shoved the thought aside.

"With thinly veiled irritation: I have dropped my optic enhancement lens."

"You're shitting me! You've been looking for your contact lens for the past five minutes! People need to use the stairs!"

"Restrained bemusement: There are transit stations available."

"I'm not going to take a shuttle just to go down one floor! Move, God damn it! I've gotta go to work, I have a date -"

"Contemptuously: Deal with it."

Oriana sidled around the wall, past the flustered man and pointed at a spot to the elcor's right. "I think I see something," she announced.

The elcor turned to look. When he did, Oriana slipped past him and bounded down the stairs as fast as her dress would allow (which wasn't very fast, she learned.) She could hear the man's laughter from the stairs above as he followed her lead, leaving the elcor flustered in the entryway.

"With bitter inflection: Go to hell."

When she reached the 27th floor, the first thing Oriana did was check for C-Sec officers. Their uniforms were relatively easy to spot in a crowd, and Kolyat's community uniform looked almost identical. Oriana was surprised to find that there were fewer officers milling around than usual – she'd expected the opposite after what Mouse had said about Bailey, but somehow, the lack of presence felt even more ominous. She passed a number of partitions and headed toward the Avina Terminal situated in front of the C-Sec lobby. If Kolyat wasn't working, he was usually there.

Captain Bailey was absent from his desk. A brown-haired woman sat in his place, and the officer looked up when Oriana peeked around the corner.

"Can I help you?"

Oriana glanced around the lobby. There were no drell to be seen. "Ah... no." She felt her heart sink. "No, I don't think so."

"If you're looking for the Captain, then I'm afraid he might be gone a while." The officer hesitated and straightened a number of datapads. "If you're looking for the drell, he's out cleaning the catwalks. Do you want to leave a message?"

Oriana felt her cheeks grow hot. She wasn't that transparent, was she? First Mouse, now _this _lady. "Er, no," she fumbled and hated how childish she sounded. "Thank you anyway."

"Of course. Stop by if you need anything."

Oriana ducked back into the hub and exhaled, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. Damn drell. They were never around when you needed them. It looked like she had no choice but to leave him a message and hope he took the bait – discussing things like her sister or her sister's mission was_ not _something Oriana liked doing over the public extranet.

But the trip wasn't a total loss. She'd met Mouse, and she happened to be standing outside of Citadel Souvenirs. Her father's face came to mind, and Oriana felt her expression of irritation soften into a full-lipped smile. She _had _promised him that she would get some fish.

Oriana pulled up her omni-tool and entered the store.

"_I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel!"_

If she heard that _one more time_...

So engrossed was she in composing a message to Kolyat that she didn't even notice someone was already browsing the kiosk. By the time she realized someone was, it was already too late – she'd bumped right into their back with her outstretched elbow. The sudden contact made Oriana jump, and she back-pedaled as fast (and as gracefully) as she could muster as the other customer turned around with one hand rubbing his spine.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, more angry at herself than embarrassed. At least, she was until she saw the other person's lips parted. Time slowed. She didn't even hear the asari store attendant greet her from behind the desk.

"Solheim?"

"_Danner?_"

Maybe she should have stayed home after all.

* * *

_TO: Oriana Solheim  
FROM: __Deleia Sanassi  
SUBJECT: RE: Maybe I missed something_

_I am sorry. Our underwater environment simulators (aquariums) do not come with a timed feeding function. T__his is to comply with Citadel regulations governing the use of infrastructure alteration, which has been known to agitate the Keepers. All feedings must be done manually._

_- Deleia, Citadel Souvenirs_

_ORIGINAL MESSAGE:_

_Okay. So as I was getting my fish se__t up and looking over the instructions that came with the fish tank I ordered from your kiosk, and I realized that there was no option to set the tank's feeder to automatic. Did I miss something? Is there a special part I need to order? Cause O.M.F.G. I ca__n't believe we'd have mass effect manipulation and A.I.s, but no one's figured out how to feed a couple of fish without having to punch a button all the time?_

-x-

_TO: Oriana Solheim  
FROM: Kolyat Krios  
SUBJECT: RE: Thought about you_

_been busy. late shifts. we can meet up for lunch, i don't care. anytime this week is fine._

_what did you want to tell me?_

_ADDT: better not be about fish._

_ADDT: you think about me?_

_- kolyat_

-x-

_TO: Oriana Solheim  
FROM: Citadel Souvenirs  
SUBJECT: Thank you for your order!_

_[This is an automated e-mail. Do not reply.]_

_Citadel Souvenirs would like to thank you for your order of: (5) THESSIAN SUNFISH, (2) ILLIUM SKALD FISH, (1) KAHJE LUMINOR._

_As per your request, the THESSIAN SUNFISH has/have been shipped along with a certificate of ownership, under the name(s) of: BACH, BEETHOVEN, HAYDN, __NIELSEN, SCHUBERT._

_As per your request, the ILLIUM SKALD FISH has/have been shipped along with a certificate of ownership, under the name(s) of: KOLLY, RANDA._

_As per your request, the KAHJE LUMINOR has/have been shipped along with a certificate of ownership, under the name(s) of: BLASTO._

_Thank you for shopping at Citadel Souvenirs, the one-stop shop for all things Citadel!_


	10. Not Too Late

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Mass Effect_.

I'd like to thank MyFix for her help with this chapter. :)  
And thank you to everyone who's stuck with me. This one's for you.

* * *

**Scene Nine**

Not Too Late

* * *

_TO: Kolyat Krios_  
_FROM: Mikel Kushnir_  
_SUBJECT: Keep In Touch_

_I know we havnt talked much after what happened with your last job. Im still selling VIs and hoping to save up sum creds to go to earth. Get away from people like Kelham. Never been there but Ive heard stories. Maybe your father can tell you about it, I talkd to him about it a few times._

_Any way maybe we can talk or hang out while your here? Feel like Ive known you most of my life even if we never met. Krios always did right by me so Ill return the favor even if it didnt work out last time._

_- Mouse_

* * *

Kolyat Krios didn't like heights.

When the parole attendant in charge of assigning his next round of duties asked whether there were any "irrational fears" that she should know about, Kolyat had twitched his shoulders in what passed as a shrug and said that working the catwalks was fine by him, as long as it helped pay off his debt to society. (The last part was said with a sneer, but to the drell's credit, it was less of a sneer than he would have given a few months ago. Or maybe not; a few months ago he might have said nothing and not looked at her at all.)

And it was true. Heights didn't scare him, they just made him uncomfortable. It was a feeling he got used to after his third round of doing service work on them. They were certainly different than working in the warehouses or at the docks, because while the lively beat of the Wards went on below his feet, he still couldn't escape it. He was the unseen, but he saw everything.

The mid-district had a lot of clubs and restaurants, so most of the chatter that drifted up to his earbuds was comprised of music and the soft whisper of his translator, which he was required to leave on at all times. What made the catwalks special, however, was that they were one of the highest places still subjected to gravity in the Wards (relative to the station's superstructure.) A livable atmosphere was only maintained to seven meters or so, and it was unsettling to find oneself standing over the heads of people without the aid of a skycar.

It might have been an enlightening experience, save for three things. One, he was on the catwalks to clean them. They were a restricted area reserved for maintenance workers, stock boys and Keepers, so of course people liked storing things like drugs, bodies and questionable pornographic material there. Luckily, Kolyat had only found one bag of red sand, zero dead bodies, and one flatbed truckload of porn... so far.

Two, the catwalks belonged to the Keepers. Sure, they weren't dangerous, but that didn't mean shit when they still managed to be creepy as hell. It was hard to be at peace when a giant green _thing_ was staring at you from across the room.

And three... Ah, yes. The third reason Kolyat's service work on the catwalks was less than ideal was because somehow, at some point (during his second visit, if he were to get specific) he seemed to have made a _friend._

"Are you a terminator?"

Kolyat's secondary eyelids flickered. "No."

"Do you eat rats?"

"No."

"Do the Keepers eat rats?"

"N- how should I know?"

Kolyat's pursuer fell silent. The drell sighed and hoped the conversation had ended, though he could still hear the sound of tiny feet shadowing his own. Kolyat took a right along the catwalk and checked his omni-tool; a map of the building leapt to life above the back of his wrist, and the map itself was marked with small notations and arrows indicating which cleaning route he was responsible for. A small icon blinked in the corner of the hologram, and below it there streamed a constant update of local news updates, as well as his present coordinates. He was being monitored.

Kolyat flicked the omni-tool off and neared the end of another series of catwalks. He stopped in front of a door and made a log of his progress, including a small notation that he hadn't run into any pests or illegal trash dumps yet. He was glad he had the map; all the rooms and doors looked the same, and the walkways got confusing after a while. There were numerous lofts that connected the catwalks, most of which were used for storage, although a few paths were restricted for Keepers.

Kolyat reached for the door's holopad, but stopped short. "You're not supposed to be here," he said, and frowned at the curly-haired human child who blinked up at him.

The boy shrugged. "I'm a duct rat. Where else am I gonna be?"

It was a damn good question, and one Kolyat often asked himself. "Why do you keep following me?" he asked the boy instead.

By that time, the human had wandered over to the edge of the catwalk. The drell's muscles tensed involuntarily, but the boy stopped short of the ledge and leaned over just enough to get an idea of what was happening on the floor below. The orphan glanced back at him.

"You're interesting," was the answer.

Kolyat dropped his hand from the door's holopad and folded his arms. "Interesting?"

The duct rat wandered away from the edge and back toward him. "You're cool looking," he explained. "I like your jacket."

_(She steps back, one fingertip tapping at her chin – blue eyes flicker up and down, alien, ringed in white and clear, pale skin - "Okay, try this, then: Your outfit looks... nice. And your jacket is... very supportive.")_

Kolyat reached up to touch the cold, metal teeth that anchored his leather jumpsuit together. Of all the things to be complimented on... "Uh. Thanks," he heard himself mumble. The tips of his frill bloomed a faint violet. It was easy to feel self-conscious about the community service name-tag pinned beneath his collar, but the gods knew it was better than that vest he'd been forced to wear not long ago.

"Do all drills have jackets like yours?"

There was the soft chime of a holopad flashing green when Kolyat keyed the door open. "It's drell."

"Do all drells have jackets like yours?"

"_Drell._" Kolyat went to step inside but had to double-check his feet when the little human ducked under his legs and slipped in before him. "And no," he finished, his voice warbling in irritation.

"Oh." The duct rat stopped in the middle of the supply room and spun on one heel. "Hey, I know this place! This is where they keep the stuff!"

The room itself was rather large, but one side was filled with stacks of unmarked crates and containers. There was a line of shelves on one of the walls, where a human dressed in maintenance fatigues stood poring over a number of shipping manifests. Said human whirled around at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey!" The man blurted. "What are you doing h-" He froze upon seeing Kolyat, though his gaze flicked continuously to the child that hovered around the drell's legs. "Huh. Uh... Col-yacht, right?"

Memories flashed behind Kolyat's eyes, each a vivid blur of contour and shape, before a visual match was made. He'd met this human once before on the catwalks – his name was Jim Reynolds; a stock boy who'd transferred from the 800-blocks some time ago.

"Yes."

The stock boy relaxed. "Inspection, right?"

Kolyat twitched his shoulders in an affirmative and flicked a nail at the edge of his name-tag.

"Sure, okay," the stock boy conceded. "I haven't seen anything, but you can go on through." Jim's brow furrowed when he looked back to duct rat that hovered about the drell's legs. "Is that kid with you?"

Kolyat _wanted _to say no – maybe he could pawn the kid off for some extra credits, or something morally questionable like that – but his mouth seemed to have other plans. "What does it matter?" he demanded, and ignored the way the scales on the back of his neck prickled protectively.

Jim held up his hands. "Look, I don't make the rules. This is a restricted area." He pointed the shipping manifest in his hand at the child in question. "Just take him with you when you leave, will you?"

Kolyat chuffed and continued through the supply room, leaving the stock boy to mumble to himself. The smaller boy followed the drell out the door and waited until they were back on the catwalks with the door closed behind them before he spoke.

"Next time we should tell him there's a bomb," he suggested. "I bet he'd run fast."

Kolyat finished adding another notation to his report and perked a brow ridge against the orange glow of his omni-tool. "Why would you do that?"

The boy shrugged. "It'd be funny."

Kolyat de-activated his omni-tool and continued walking. The orphan shadowed his every stride, and once or twice the drell thought he felt the human's tiny hand ghost against the leather of his legs. Kolyat said nothing, deciding that the nuisance would go away if he pretended that it didn't exist. Gods above, what had he done to deserve this?

_("Help me, drell," the shaking turian pleads – blue light frames a pale form, pale walls – the gun is heavy in his hand, and he trembles, thumbing the trigger – a new figure strides forward, familiar, green-on-black-on-brown – "I'll do whatever you want!")_

Nausea swam through Kolyat's gut, so sudden and acute that he almost stopped walking so that he could catch his breath. Color swam in front of his eyes as memory and reality overlapped, and when he felt cold alloy at his palm he jerked his hand back, half expecting it to be a gun, only to realize that he'd been gripping the catwalk's railing.

_("C-sec. Put the gun down, s-")_

"- you okay?"

Kolyat pressed the pads of his fingers into his temple and exhaled once. He then nictated three times before removing his hand, and the world was solid again, complete with the muffled thrum of faraway dance beats, the faint glimmering of light from numerous ads and banners, and the single orphan child who looked up at him with wide-eyed concern.

"I'm fine," he snapped. The nausea vanished, and he kept walking. Fortunately, the boy didn't appear phased by the rebuttal, and continued trailing after the much larger and older drell as though nothing had happened.

"Do drills do that a lot?" the duct rat ventured after a few heartbeats of silence.

"Drell."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"Are you going to be sick?"

"Don't you have something else to do?" Kolyat didn't think he sounded angry, but when the sound of the child's steps came to a halt, he stopped and turned around. The human didn't appear concerned with him, however; the boy made a gesture with one dirt-smudged hand and took a left at the next junction, toward what looked to be a corner near one of the Keeper's maintenance terminals. When Kolyat didn't move to follow, the boy turned around and made a frustrated noise.

"Come on, Kiosk! I gotta show you something."

"It's _Krios_." Kolyat made to step forward but brought himself up short. "If this is a joke..."

The boy shook his head. "Not a joke." Maybe it was the limited overhead lighting, but the child looked unusually solemn for someone so young, or so alien. Kolyat resisted the urge to knead the pads of his fingers against his nose and made his way to the other side of the catwalk where the duct rat now stood.

The boy moved aside once Kolyat had come to stand beside him. "This is for Keepers," the larger drell said when he noticed the terminal that jutted out of the wall. With that thought, the drell glanced over both shoulders; he would be lying if he said that the Citadel's insectoid guardians didn't _creep him the hell out_, and if one of them started scuttling its way toward them, he was going to bail back across the catwalk – or, failing that, jump over the edge and hope he didn't break his neck on the floor below.

"That's not it," the human said. He moved aside an old storage container and pointed behind it. "This."

The first thing Kolyat saw was what looked to be a ventilation shaft. It was covered in a thin alloy grating, which proved to be more than insufficient when the human child wiggled it loose with a few expert tugs of his arms. The drell frowned and eased his weight down onto his knees, deciding that squatting was better than hovering.

"Why are you showing me this?" he asked the human, only to blink both eyelids when the boy crawled forward and disappeared inside the shaft. Kolyat rocked back on his heels and reached out to steady himself by resting one hand on the empty storage container. It was dark inside the tunnel, which looked to be all gray metal and echoes. The human had to be crazy if he thought Kolyat was going to crawl in after him – just _looking_ at the size of the opening made the drell's shoulders hurt.

Fortunately, it appeared that the boy _didn't_ think that. There was the sound of hands and knees knocking against metal followed by an exchange of voices. The echo of the shaft infused Kolyat's translator with a haze of garbled nonsense, but the flanging speech of a turian was hard to mistake. Kolyat cocked his head and pulled himself up to stand when the clanging of limbs grew closer and the boy crawled back out of the shaft.

"Well?" Kolyat asked. The human brushed polymer dust from the scabs of his knees and looked up at the drell.

"There's a place where the tunnels are broke," the boy said. He pointed back at the shaft. "Solana says it's gonna fall out any time now."

Kolyat was about to ask who Solana was, but another glance at the shaft revealed the small, angular face of a young turian female. She cocked her head at Kolyat and fluttered her mandibles before ducking back inside. Kolyat nictated and rubbed at one of his biceps. How many duct rats _were_ there?

"Why are you telling me this?" he wondered aloud.

"That's what you do, isn't it?" the boy pressed. "Clean and fix things?"

Anger – brief, but hot – flared in Kolyat's chest. "Not for you."

Some things defy species barriers, and the look of undisguised hurt that flashed across the duct rat's face was one of them. The ash of Kolyat's anger was replaced with shame, and the drell cleared his throat, continuing, "I'll... mention it." He nudged the container with the toe of his boot. "Why hasn't anyone looked at this? You'd think someone would care."

It was the human's turn to look ashamed. "It's our tunnels. We don't like people messing with them. But that's not it." The boy pointed at the wall terminal just behind Kolyat. "Adults don't like coming around here 'cause of the Keepers. They don't get near the computers. They think the Keepers use these holes, but they don't. They can't fit."

Kolyat gave the crate another nudge with his boot and felt his brow ridges furrow. "You hide the opening, too."

The boy shrugged and avoided eye contact. The orphan's hands worried together in a gesture that reminded Kolyat of Mouse. "These are our tunnels," the boy mumbled. "Me and Solana."

"Your friend," Kolyat said, and looked to where the turian had vanished.

"My friend Jared disappeared last month," the boy blurted. "The Keepers ate him."

The monitoring device installed in Kolyat's omni-tool buzzed against the scales of his wrist. Kolyat curled his lip and gave the tool an irritated flick of his arm as the orange holo leapt to life. He worked on updating his status and replied, "Keepers don't eat people." Well, that he _knew of_. Did they even have mouths? Gods, what creepy sons-of-bitches...

"We think he fell into the vats. The big protein vats. We haven't seen him." The boy pried his hands apart and tugged at the bottom of his shirt. "We have to climb out over them to get around the broken place. I don't want to fall."

Kolyat finished his update and deactivated the omni-tool. The boy was clearly distressed, and Kolyat experienced a pang of sympathy the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'll tell someone about it," he assured in the most soothing voice he could muster. It wasn't much considering his natural rasp. "They'll send someone to fix it. But they might seal things up. You won't be able to use this tunnel any more."

The boy's expression brightened. "There are other ways."

It was in that moment that Kolyat understood just why his father had used the orphans for his killing. The duct rats were true _drala'fa,_ and even Kolyat had trouble comprehending the ease in which the boy crept on his hands and knees back into the ventilation system that only a handful of people knew existed.

"I've got to go," the human explained. He reached for the detached grating and dragged it toward him. "Can you move the box back?"

Kolyat shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Uh, sure." He grabbed the top of the container and slid it back in front of the opening as the boy shimmied backwards and pulled the grating up.

"Solana likes you," the boy added. His already tinny voice was muffled by the surrounding walls as the ventilation cover clicked back into place. "She says if the human ever dumps you, that she'll be your wife, like on _Fleet and Flotilla_."

"Wait, what?" Kolyat shoved the container aside just enough so that he could see into the tunnel. The boy's grubby features peered back at him from the shadows. The drell could have sworn the human was grinning.

"My name's Din-Din."

"I didn't ask for your name! What does she mean, about the human -"

Kolyat stopped short when he realized that the duct rat had disappeared. There was a soft clank of limbs on alloy before the world fell silent, save for the ambient pulse of the Wards that still thrummed from the hub beneath the catwalk. Kolyat nictated his inner eyelids and allowed himself an annoyed chest rumble before he slid the container back in front of the ventilation shaft. And just like that, he was alone again.

His father really had been a clever bastard. These drala'fa knew more than what was good for them, and while Kolyat wasn't sure what "dumping" meant (his translator offered a variety of explanations, each more disturbing than the last,) it still made his throat feel hot. Perhaps it was the fact that his thoughts turned to one human in particular – out of the many he was forced to interact with – that embarrassed Kolyat more than anything.

Right. He still had a job to do. Kolyat turned and -

Goddess of oceans, the afterlife and _holy shit!_

The soulless black eyes that stared back at him were unfazed by the expletives. Then again, Keepers weren't phased by much of anything, and the segmented face that filled Kolyat's vision swerved back and forth as the drell stumbled out of the Keeper's way. The giant insect shuffled forward as Kolyat sucked in his stomach and leaned as far back against the railing as possible, and once it had passed, the drell pulled up his collar with an embarrassed mumble and continued on his way.

The rest of his shift passed in a silence that was only broken by the occasional buzz of his omni-tool. Once Kolyat had finished his round, he returned to the hub below and met with his parole attendant, who looked over his reports with a nod before deactivating the monitoring devices installed in his tech. He was free to go, at least for a little while. Kolyat's legs were starting to hurt from the constant walking, so it was with no small amount of relief that he hopped on the first transit shuttle he could get his hands on. The cab slid closed overhead and the shuttle lifted off, leaving Kolyat with nothing to do engage the auto-pilot. Unlike certain individuals, he had no issue with motion sickness, and found the entire experience to be relaxing.

He had just stretched out his legs when his omni-tool chimed.

Speaking of certain individuals...

The drell rolled the omni-tool disc around in the palm of his hand and perked a brow ridge; there were only so many people who'd be trying to reach him like this, and only two of them would do so when he was on the way to his apartment for a much-needed nap. Horrible timing seemed to be a prevalent theme in his life.

Kolyat didn't want to answer it, but it came as no surprise when he did. He sat up in his seat and rerouted the incoming message from his omni-tool to a personal correspondence device that he kept attached to his collar in the absence of a belt. The omni-tool stopped chiming and stillness returned to the shuttle. Kolyat flipped his communicator open with an uncertain pull to his lips, ignoring the glittering gray Zakera Ward skyscrapers that flashed past the shuttle's tinted windows.

CONTACT (OrianaS) HAS REQUESTED A CHAT. INITIATE?

He should have known. And while he'd been enjoying the relative quiet of the shuttle, the blinking script on the screen of his communicator felt suddenly welcome. Kolyat leveled an ankle against the top of his knee and began to type.

KK: [LOGIN][ONLINE]  
OR: [ONLINE]  
OR: Hi!  
KK: hello.  
OR: I'm surprised you answered. I thought you were working.  
KK: just got off.  
OR: Oh... uh. Got off... Right.  
KK: what?  
OR: Nothing. Translator error. You OK?  
KK: yes. heading back.  
OR: Are you free? I was wondering if you wanted to eat somewhere.  
KK: where?  
OR: At Ohera's Bar and Grill, 16th floor. Ever been?  
KK: no.  
OR: Me neither, but I got invited.  
KK: by who?  
OR: School friends. Figured I needed to hang out with them, since we share a few classes.

Kolyat felt his jaw tighten. Oriana must have sensed his uncertainty through his lack of response.

OR: It's for fun. We just got through with a test so people are celebrating.  
KK: did you do well?  
OR: I always do. Er, most of the time.  
KK: i don't know.  
OR: Pleez? You could meet some people. There are some things we need to talk about. Plus I haven't seen you in a few days.  
KK: you do think about me.  
OR: Sure. Do you think about me?

_(She touches his hand, skin bare and feather light – their eyes meet, blue on black – )_

KK: i can't forget you.

There was a pause.

OR: That would be sweet if it weren't so literal.

Kolyat felt the corner of his accented lips twitch upwards.

KK: i'm a drell.  
OR: I noticed. The scales gave it away. So? Will you stop by?  
KK: why can't we meet afterwards?  
OR: Don't you want to make friends?  
KK: no.  
OR: OK, so I expected that. But everyone is going to be celebrating, no one's going to listen to us. We won't look suspicious. Besides, I know you better than most of the other people who'll be there.

Kolyat rolled the communicator between his hands and watched the faint glow from the screen highlight the lifelines that creased his scales. He didn't want to go, and he was tired of being coerced into doing things that he didn't want to do. And who were these _friends, _anyway? Most likely humans and asari; just more people who would stare at his reptilian features and presume to understand him. More people he could do without.

The screen lit up again.

OR: You remember the convo we had in the skycar?

Kolyat moved to respond with a _no shit_, but the text continued to scroll.

OR: You know how I said I got nervous around certain people? This is like that. There's someone... I just thought I'd invite you, and we could talk while we're there.

_(Painted lips part in a small circle, flashing white teeth – a pale face flushed red – she shakes her head, looking away – "That's not it. I just don't know how to talk to guys. Some guys.")_

The request was unusual, which was enough to make Kolyat reconsider. Hell, Oriana admitting she was anxious was a rarity in itself; the human was so damn composed that seeing her weak-kneed from something as simple as motion sickness had been startling enough. Not to mention that out of everyone on the Citadel, she missed _him_?

Kolyat scratched at the ribbing of his neck, but no matter how hard he scratched, he couldn't rid himself of the tickling sensation that spread throughout his throat. The shuttle felt very small in that moment, and he rearranged his legs, nearly whacking his knee against the dash.

_Deep breaths, Krios,_ his mind cautioned. _You don't owe her anything. You don't -_

KK: i'll stop by.  
OR: Thanks! I'm leaving now. I'll see you there.

Their conversation window dimmed. Kolyat pinched the plates of his brow together and sighed. He was going to regret this. He always did.

The Zakera Ward cityscape continued flashing by all around him. The drell reached over and made a quick course-adjusted on the navigation grid, and with a gentle hum, the transit peeled off its current course and made for the dock nearest to Ohera's Bar & Grill. Kolyat settled back into his seat and drummed the pads of his fingers against the top of his communicator, wondering why he felt so nervous. Gods damn it. Why couldn't he just say no? It'd been so easy a few months ago.

Glancing down, Kolyat noticed a new notification in his inbox. It was from Captain Bailey – unsurprising, since Kolyat usually met with the C-Sec officer after his longer shifts. Most of their discussions revolved around Kolyat's "current status" and what his prospects looked like. It was amazing how natural it felt now. Not long ago he would have never dreamed of leaving Kahje. Now he didn't blink twice (once for each eyelid) at the thought of meeting with a veteran security officer in the belly of the Wards.

But it could have been worse. Kolyat didn't know how things would have turned out if he'd succeeded in killing Talid, but the very idea unsettled him to his core. The memories threatened to come flooding back, but Kolyat resisted, choosing instead to stare out the shuttlecar's window. He didn't have much, but it was something.

_(– large eyes, grubby hands, a solemn face – the orphan looks away, his bare feet black – "These are our tunnels. Me and Solana.")_

Kolyat flipped the communicator closed.

_("Kolyat. I've taken many bad things out of the world. You're the only-")_

He shoved the memories away and focused on the building that grew larger in the distance. Kolyat didn't _want_ to think. So why had he agreed to go along with Oriana's request? He didn't know. And Kolyat decided he didn't want to think about that, either.

* * *

Ohera's Bar and Grill was grittier than most other Zakera restaurants, and segmented by booths and tables full of laughing civilians who were waited on by brown-eyed asari waitresses. There was a bar that was constantly full of drinks, plates and clatter; overhead, and next to every booth, were vidscreens streaming live feeds of various intergalactic sports events. The air itself was filled with old music and tinged with the scent of smoke. The Citadel was normally so sterile smelling, random greenery aside, and as the drell stood outside the bar's entrance, he understood why customers were drawn to Ohera's charm.

Of course, Kolyat had ample time to familiarize himself with the place, because he spent a long time trying to decide whether he wanted to go in or not. He watched a number of people come and go from his vantage point by the wall, where he leaned his back against the metal plating with his arms folded. It was amazing how people didn't seem to notice him, not that he wanted them to; there were times he was glad that he was teal-scaled and better able to blend into the Ward's shadows than other drell.

A motley assortment of humans entered the bar, each one jabbering loudly at the top of their lungs. Kolyat wasn't sure if any of them were friends of Oriana, and the more people he saw pass by, the less confident he felt. What was he doing here? He hadn't even seen Oriana yet. She was likely inside waiting for him, but humans had a tendency to forget things, didn't they? Maybe she'd forgotten about him and was enjoying her outing without him. Whatever news she had to share could wait til he'd had a nap. They could talk things over in his apartment. Or, knowing his luck, she'd want him to go over to her place just to see those stupid fish she'd bought...

Yes. She must have forgotten him. It was a reasonable thing to think, Kolyat decided. It was also a convenient excuse for him to leave, and one he took when he pushed himself from the wall and started to walk back to the nearest transit station, leaving the spicy scent of smoke behind.

"Kolyat!"

Oh, hell. Kolyat turned around in time to feel Oriana's hand light on his bicep in a way that was completely unnecessary.

"There you are," she said, pulling him toward the bar. "I thought you'd gotten lost or something."

"I don't -"

Oriana's grip on his arm tightened by a fraction. "Don't _even_."

The next thing Kolyat knew, he was inside the bar and standing in front of a corner booth surrounded by women. The situation was far from sexy, however – most of them were human women, with two or three asari thrown into the mix. Kolyat's mind spun as his brain attempted to imprint and catalog the vast assortment of new faces that greeted him as Oriana motioned for him to take a seat. The drell resisted, and Oriana was forced to shoot him a dirty look and slide onto the bench first. Kolyat chuffed and sat down beside her. It was then that he remembered his name-tag. He peeled it off his jacket and tucked it into his jumpsuit. Oriana noticed and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Ori! Who's your friend?" one of the other females was asking. She leaned over the table and grinned at the drell, flashing all of her too-many teeth and winking her small, squinty eyes. Kolyat leaned back until he felt the tops of his head fins smack against the back of the booth. Gods above, if it wasn't a Keeper invading his personal space, it was a human.

"This is Kolyat," Oriana answered while shifting her elbows forward on the tabletop. "He works for C-Sec."

Kolyat shot Oriana a glare, but was ignored.

"Oh! That's cool." The unknown female looked at him. "You're a deputy?"

Kolyat cleared his throat and wondered how he could ever explain that no, he was actually an ex-hitman doing community work for C-Sec because he'd been caught holding a gun to someone's head.

"Hey, Krista, while you're up can you go get us a menu?" Oriana interrupted. "We've never been here before. I'm feeling a bit lost."

"Oh, sure. I'll be back."

The other human left. A few other classmates wandered up to introduce themselves, but soon became embroiled in conversation with each other, leaving Kolyat and Oriana alone. Much of the chatter was muffled where they were, and Kolyat took the opportunity to duck his head and hiss.

"They're going to think I'm an actual officer," he said.

Oriana shrugged her shoulders and lowered her voice to match his. "Close enough."

"_Not _close. Bailey's already bitched at me about taking advantage of the uniform -"

"At the Zakera Cafe?" Oriana was giving him that calculated look of hers. Kolyat frowned.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. If I'd known -"

"And I'm still not. So stop saying you're sorry."

Oriana mimicked his frown. "Fine."

"What did you want to talk about that was so important?"

Oriana took a deep breath and folded a napkin. When she exhaled, she glanced to him in a manner that was all business. "I got a message. From my sister."

The scales on the back of Kolyat's neck went cold. This was going to be one of _those_ conversations.

_(He glances from the omni-tool, watching her from the corner of his eye – her hand moves, pale fingers brushing strands of dark hair from her forehead - white splitting black – "It's like we don't exist," she says.)_

"It was more of the same," Oriana continued, "but-"

She stopped mid-sentence and made a strangled noise. Kolyat sat up in alarm, but Oriana's hand darted out and gripped the pauldron on his left shoulder. The drell was left confused when she shimmied back in her seat and held him in place so that she could... hide?

"What are you doing?" Kolyat demanded. He reached up to take her hand but she'd already removed it. Oriana laughed nervously and grabbed the napkin, which she started to unfold, although she made no move to get out of his shadow.

"Sorry," she said. "I saw someone..."

Kolyat turned his finned head to look. Oriana made another sound and jostled his elbow, which led him to look back at her with an annoyed grunt.

"Stop looking," she pressed. "He'll think something's up."

"Who?"

Oriana stared openly at Kolyat for a number of seconds before she looked back to the napkin. "The person I mentioned -"

"_Who?_" Kolyat sat up straighter and pressed his palms against the edge of the table. "Has someone -"

"No!" Oriana pawed at the straps of Kolyat's jacket and yanked him back down into his seat. "No. Just... That's him," she whispered, pointing. Kolyat found himself looking at a group of human men in sports uniforms who were standing at the bar watching one of the live vidfeeds. His lip curled.

"I know him," Oriana explained. Her eyes were trained on the back of one of the taller, tan-skinned males. "His name is Danner. He was in one of my classes at my old school."

"He looks like a _fash'ti_."

Oriana jabbed Kolyat in the ribs. "He does _not_ look like a shrimp!" she hissed.

"Why is he here?" The heat in her voice had pricked something raw inside of him, and Kolyat felt the skin of his scalp prickle.

"He's visiting. His parents own some restaurants here. He's friends with the Auxua sports team, so he got invited, too."

"And this matters _how_?"

"It doesn't!" In the midst of her frustration, Oriana's voice had thickened with an accent that Kolyat couldn't place. It made his translator lag, which only annoyed him further. "I just didn't want him to see me over here. It's... It's kind of embarrassing. But he hasn't said two words to me." She sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't have worried."

Kolyat studied the back of "Danner"'s uniform. He then looked at Oriana, who was attempting to salvage the crumpled remains of the napkin she'd been worrying with. He then looked at the table, and at last, at his own gloved hands. A cold feeling spread throughout his chest.

"I see," he muttered, his voice so low that it came out as more of a breath.

Oriana looked at him. No, not at Danner, but at _him_; the sight of her two alien eyes leveling with his own only made Kolyat feel colder. "Anyway," she continued, the red tint to her cheeks fading, "that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." She looked around, possibly for Krista, before leaning in. Her voice lowered. "My sister..."

"Is it?" Kolyat snapped. He'd have never been able to get away with so many interruptions back on Kahje, but lucky for him humans didn't hold the same values as hanar. He was lucky for so many things.

Or was he?

Oriana blinked. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but -"

But Kolyat was already standing. He brushed past "Krista," who had returned with a number of menus. The drell could hear the scraping of feet across flooring as he stalked past the blurred figures of other customers, including the sports team, who cheered at something on the screen when he walked by. Kolyat's fists twitched.

"Ori?" The voice of the other female drifted back from the corner booth, muffled by ambient music and clamor. "Where are you going? Why did he -"

The scent of smoke followed Kolyat out of the bar and back into the 16th floor lobby. Everything seemed to be moving, and he reached up to rub at his eyes, barely aware that he was cursing under his breath in his native tongue. He shoved past a trio of salarians and didn't even turn around when one of them said something. He just kept moving. And for the second time that day, the sound of footsteps followed him. He whirled around before Oriana could reach him, because it could have only been her.

It was. Oriana stopped in front of him. Her dark hair curled wildly at her temple and her lips were pressed in a thin line. She was angry. Well, good. So was he.

"Kolyat, what is your _problem_? Why did you just walk out like that?"

He scowled. "I wanted to."

"We can't talk out here."

"Why not?"

Oriana's eyes flashed. "This is kind of important."

"Why?" Kolyat's voice cracked. "Is there something else you need to_ use _me for?"

"I... what? Kolyat, you're not making any sense."

Kolyat laughed. It was a grating sound, and he didn't miss the way Oriana's eyes widened when she heard it. "You're just like my father," he said. "You only want me around when it's convenient."

Oriana took a step back, and the muscles of her neck visibly tightened. At any other time Kolyat might have marveled at how beautiful that detail was – how pale, bare necks were strange, but attractive in their own way, even if they were different from the vibrant scales of drell. But he couldn't focus. He couldn't focus on anything.

"What?" Oriana breathed. "Is this about _Danner_?"

The heat in Kolyat's chest flared. "Why are you out here with a drell and not in there with your own kind? Why don't you leave?"

_(His father leaves out the same door that he always does –)_

Oriana raked both hands through her hair. The rose-colored gloss on her lips shone brightly in the lighting of the hub. "This is ridiculous," she said at last. Her fingers trembled in her hair – it was a slight movement, but easily noticed by drell eyes. "Kolyat, I got an e-mail from my sister."

"And?"

"And – do you really want to talk about this out here?" She ripped her hands from her hair and waved them around at the lobby.

"You wanted to talk about it in _there_?"

"Are you even listening? My sister said they're coming!"

Whatever train of thought Kolyat had been holding onto vanished. He uncurled his fists.

"Did you even know?" Oriana continued. She seemed to relax, although her shoulders remained tense, and her bare arms were white from strain. The salarians had disappeared inside the bar; for the moment, they were alone. "Because I didn't know if you did. You never tell me anything."

"So it's my fault," he sneered.

"I didn't say that. But you could be a little more open, you know." Oriana's face was grim. "Sometimes it feels like I don't even know you."

Kolyat had no answer for that. The burning in his chest had spread through every part of him and overwhelmed his senses, leaving them numb.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Oriana said after a moment. "I know I'm not the most likely person in the world to be your friend, but I'm here."

"When?" Kolyat asked.

Disappointment clouded Oriana's eyes, but she shrugged. "Sis wasn't specific... a month, maybe? Maybe more?" Her face softened. "I guess you _didn't_ know."

_("I don't know," his mother answers, her tear-streaked frill pressed into his own.)_

"And I hope you're happy," Oriana was saying. She fussed with the front of her jacket. Kolyat blinked the memory away. "I can't believe you had to throw a jealous fit over this. Now everyone's going to ask questions. What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't care." It hadn't been a jealous fit. It was more complex than that. She would never understand. Not even he understood.

"You obviously do if something that stupid was enough to set you off," Oriana replied. "You may not have to go to class with these people, but I do."

Kolyat's sneer returned. "Lucky me."

"Are you going to come back inside?"

He stared past her to the bar. "No."

"Great," Oriana said. She threw her hands up and made an exasperated noise. "I tried! Maybe I'll talk to you later, when you're not so... like _this_."

"Sure," Kolyat replied. The rasp of his voice dripped with sarcasm. "When it's _convenient_."

Oriana stared at him, her face white with anger. It was the last he saw of her before he turned and walked away, his thoughts as dark as his eyes.

* * *

Kolyat didn't go back to his apartment. He'd wasted enough time, and his head was filled with too much static for him to nap like he'd planned. He returned to the 27th floor C-Sec lobby instead, and once there, he turned in his second service report to the first officer he saw without a word. When that was done, he waited.

He still had to meet with Bailey.

It was hard to get the scent of Ohera's Bar and Grill out of his nose, and it wasn't long before Kolyat's stomach started to protest his missed lunch. The drell suffered through the hunger pangs at first, but when Haron threw an energy bar in his direction, Kolyat didn't argue. He ripped it open (after checking to make sure it wasn't dextro first) and worked out his frustrations by chewing as hard and as loud as he could. It took the edge off, and he commandeered one of the lobby seats to sit on while he waited.

Normally talking with Bailey was one of the last things Kolyat wanted to close his day with. But there was something about the Captain that granted... clarity. Maybe it was the older man's simple logic and unorthodox ways, but when Kolyat needed his ass kicked, Bailey had always been there, and the drell had often felt better for it afterward. It had worked on the shooting range. Maybe it would work now. He hadn't seen Bailey for days, anyway – something had happened, and Kolyat was curious.

_("But you could be a little more open, you know. Sometimes it feels like I don't even know you.")_

Kolyat took another bite out of energy bar and growled in his throat. His next bite was accompanied by a sour taste – his gums were starting to bleed.

_("You know you can talk to me, right?")_

How could he? He didn't know what to say! What _could_ he say? He was supposed to start a new life on the Citadel, not revisit old wounds. He was beyond all that now. His father, his... his mother – everything.

Right?

_("I know I'm not the most likely person in the world to be your friend, but I'm here.")_

Kolyat tossed the empty wrapper into the nearest disposal unit and closed his eyes. Oriana's words pinged back and forth in his head until they were all he could think about. They stung, and for a reason.

He didn't know _why_.

He didn't know why Oriana considered him a friend. She'd used him, yes. But was that so bad? Weren't relationships about giving and taking? Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he had yet to _give._

But did he want to? Wasn't he tired of being disappointed? Was someone like Oriana really going to stick around in his life? No one _else_ had. These friends, this_ Danner_ had only made things clear: Oriana would always go back to her own kind.

_("Solana likes you. She says if the human ever dumps you, that she'll be your wife, like on _Fleet and Flotilla._")_

"Krios?" A C-Sec officer stood in the doorway to the lobby's hall, where the private offices and interrogation rooms were kept. Kolyat looked up at the voice and felt suddenly tired. "Bailey's ready."

The first thing Kolyat noticed when he stepped into Captain Bailey's private office was how clean it was. There was no smell of coffee, no stray flecks of dust wafting in the air. The shelves on the back wall were almost empty, with only a few dimmed holos to give them a personal touch. In one corner there were boxes – compact storage containers, Kolyat realized, a trickle of anxiety creeping through him – and in the middle of the room sat Bailey's desk, strewn with numerous datapads, manifests, and... bandages.

Kolyat's gaze came to rest on the man himself. Bailey looked up and smiled his familiar thin smile when the door slid shut at Kolyat's back.

"Hey, son. How's work?"

For a split second, Kolyat said nothing. He was too shocked by the dark circles under Bailey's eyes, the scrapes, and the fact that one of the captain's arms hung in a sling. This was not the Bailey he had last seen.

"Infested with Keepers," the drell grumbled at last. He deigned not to sit in the chair Bailey offered him and instead stood off to the side with his arms crossed. It made him feel detached, which was just what he wanted.

"Catwalks, eh? Could be worse," the older man answered. "I saw that you filed a complaint. We'll send a team up to check it out." Bailey shuffled his lame arm onto the desk so that he could clasp his gnarled hands together. "You were... thorough."

"So? I did a good job."

"You did." Bailey unclasped his hands and studied a roster that was propped against his unlit terminal. "Looks like you put in some good hours today." He raised an eyebrow and shot Kolyat a pointed look. "Sore?"

Kolyat considered lying. At one point he would have, just for the hell of it, but that didn't seem like a good enough reason any more. "Tired," he answered, and in more ways than one. He could still taste bits of blood and energy bar crumbs in his mouth.

"You'll live. Still, good work." The muscles of Bailey's face softened, and the numerous web of wrinkles framing his eyes and brow smoothed. "You're doing better than I thought you would."

Kolyat chuffed so hard that his chest hurt. "You must not have expected much."

"I didn't." Bailey's eyebrows lowered and his next breath escaped as a gravelly sigh. "With most kids, getting them to shape up is like pulling teeth. They fight it because the old life is the only one they've ever known. Because they don't know better."

Kolyat shifted, uncomfortable.

"This job is full of one step forwards and two step backs." The older man hesitated, as though he'd considered going on a tangent but decided against it. He spared a glance at his lame arm. "It's nice to see some progress."

"Is there a reason you're telling me this?"

"You deserve to know," Bailey replied, unfazed. "There was a time you couldn't even look me in the eye."

Kolyat instinctively met the captain's gaze. The human looked worn, but he also looked pleased. For a moment Kolyat felt a keen sense of embarrassment, although he couldn't place why.

"Right," Bailey continued, and turned his attention back to the roster. He shifted it aside and scanned through a couple of datapads. "Your friend... Mouse. Heard from him?"

_("Work?" the boy asks, brushing at his scalp with one dirt-smudged hand – "Yeah... yeah, I can hook you up. I mean, Krios, right? Just what sort of work are we talking?")_

Kolyat uncrossed his arms. "We don't talk much." He frowned. "Why? Have you heard something?"

"Nothing that involves you." Bailey rubbed at the back of his lame hand and cocked his head to the side. "I hear he's thinking about jumping ship to Earth. Either someone's been a good samaritan or people are actually buying those V.I.s of his."

Kolyat felt the muscles of his upper back and neck tense. "He's mentioned it."

"Good for him." Bailey stopped rubbing at his hand, and his face was unreadable as he leveled a stare at Kolyat. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"You heard me. What are _you_ going to do?"

Kolyat's pulse quickened. An awkward silence descended upon the room; Bailey continued to study him with unblinking blue eyes, and Kolyat found himself staring past the human's head to a line of shelves that graced the far wall. He could see picture frames lined up in a neat row, each one containing the holo of a woman's face, a girl and a young male that Kolyat didn't recognize. Of all the items in the room, these appeared to be the most used; their frames were smeared with fingerprints, their edges bent and chipped.

"I don't know," the drell said at last. The longer he looked at the holos, the sicker he felt.

Bailey continued to study him for a few more heartbeats. "That's good."

Kolyat nictated. "That's _good_?"

Bailey resumed straightening the clutter on his desk, to no effect. "A few months ago you thought you had it all figured out." He looked up. "You can see where _that _got you. Or better yet, look at where it_ almost_ got you: Dead. Jailed. Out in the streets."

_(He thumbs the trigger once, twice – cold alloy at the lines of his palm – )_

"That's why I'm giving you options," Bailey continued. "Making you do crap that you hate, but that gives you experience. I couldn't deputize you then. Hell, I can't do it now. Don't know if I'd want to. There are channels..." The human was interrupted mid-sentence by a rattling cough, and Kolyat looked on in alarm. The captain's face turned an ugly shade of red as he pressed his free fist against his mouth. The fit passed and he shook his head, pulling the hand away.

"Right," Bailey said, and cleared his throat. "Point is, if it's something you wanted to do, you could. One day. Or you could do something else. You could jump ship like Mouse – go back to Kahje."

"Not Kahje," Kolyat mumbled. His next words came out in an uncertain warble. "Are you... sick?"

Bailey looked surprised by the question. The surprise was quickly replaced by sorrow, which was even more quickly replaced by his usual wry grin. "Nah." He rubbed at the side of his neck and grimaced. "Just getting old..." He indicated his bad arm. "...And a little dinged up."

Kolyat's eyes fell to the sling. The unspoken question must have been obvious, because Bailey pushed himself back in his chair and stood up. Kolyat watched the older man pace the back of his office with a frown that grew steadily more grim.

"There's going to be some changes," Bailey said at last.

Kolyat took a step back. "What do you mean?"

Bailey didn't answer at first, and instead chose to rub at his eyes with two calloused fingers.

No.

_No._

Kolyat's fists clenched. "You're leaving?"

Bailey's fingers dragged up to rub at his forehead. "Something like that."

A chill permeated the air. Had the room always been this cold? "Is that what this is about?" Kolyat rasped, not trusting the way his voice kept wanting to break. Bailey turned away from the line of shelves to look at him. "Is this one of_ those_ conversations?"

"Watch your mouth and listen," Bailey snapped, his gaze as brittle as it was blue. "You're still in the system. You'll still be taken care of. There are people with an interest in keeping you out of trouble -"

"_You're leaving._"

Bailey squared his jaw. "It's not much of a choice," he explained, and he gestured at a small box that sat on his desk. Only then did Kolyat realize what was inside it – medals. "The _Councilor_ made sure of that."

Kolyat could feel his heart racing. He could hear it in his head. "But..."

"Executor Pallin is dead," Bailey said. "It'll be on the vids soon enough. And I've been _promoted_."

Everything seemed to blur. Kolyat's heart was thundering in his ribcage, and every beat pushed a fresh wave of nausea. He wanted to... he didn't know _what _he wanted to do, so he just stood there like an idiot, silent, trying to absorb everything he had just learned. This wasn't supposed to happen. This _wasn't supposed to happen_.

But it always did, didn't it? They always left. His father had always left. His mother...

"_I _don't have a choice," Bailey continued. He picked up a datapad, turned it over in his palm, frowned and then tossed it back onto the desk. "But _you_ do. Don't throw your life away. It wasn't a good idea the first time, and you're doing too well to screw up now."

"What do you know?" Kolyat shot back, ashamed at the way his eyes burned. They wouldn't stop burning.

"You'd be surprised." There was a long pause before the steady thump of boots heralded Bailey's approach. Kolyat didn't move as the officer's free hand gripped the young drell's shoulder.

"I'm not going to leave you here with your ass hanging out," Bailey continued. His calloused fingers gave Kolyat's shoulder a firm squeeze. "Letting you off easy was my decision, and I'll see you earn that whether you like it or not." The captain paused, and the shadows creasing his face softened. "Hell, I wanted a vacation. There's a salmon run back on Earth..."

Kolyat didn't look at him. His body was frigid under the older man's grip. There was a long pause before Bailey retracted his hand and moved back to the desk.

"You're free to go," the older man finished.

Kolyat didn't move at first. When he did, his movements were sluggish. He'd turned toward the door when the veteran's gravelly voice made him pause. Against his better judgement, Kolyat looked back.

"Whatever happens to this station, take care of yourself," Bailey said, the dark circles and scrapes beneath his eyes etching into Kolyat's memory. "A lot of people live a lifetime of regret. It's not too late for you."

Kolyat left without a word. He found himself back in the hallway silhouetted by overhead light. Alone.

_(His father leaves out the same door that he always does – )_

Pain blossomed in his head then, more mental than physical. Heat prickled his scales, and Kolyat pressed the black plate of his forehead against the nearest wall, his breaths suddenly jagged. His stomach churned. It didn't help.

_( – the rain falls outside, like it always does – )_

Kolyat pushed himself from the wall and dragged his fingers down the scales of his face, his nails catching on every nick and groove. He stumbled forward. Light and shape blinked in and out of focus. The sides of his vision blurred, moving with the machine-like jolt of his stride. His ribs grated against each other, constricting ever tighter.

_(– a warm hand falls upon his face and brushes his tears away – when did he start crying?)_

He kept going. The steady pounding of the ground against the soles of his boots traveled up his legs and spine, settling in the back of his head, melding with the beat of his heart. The beat came faster. The pressure increased. He dug his fingers into the soft tissue radiating beneath his eyes.

_(His mother pulls him into an embrace, cooing soothing words –)_

His mind was a vapor trail, clinging after the hastily departing flesh of his body. It moved with purpose, but blindly. He was sick. He was sick...

_("When will father return?" he asks, his throat thick – )_

Kolyat didn't know how or when he found the transit station, much less how or when he ended up in the 700 apartment block standing outside Oriana's door. He didn't know. It was hard to breathe. His spirit clung at his scales like a ghost, aimless, anchored by the tightening feeling in his chest. The door of her apartment was dim, all gray and white plastic.

It was so hard to breathe.

_("I don't know," she answers, her tear-streaked frill pressed into his own.) _

The door opened. Oriana stood in the entryway, her entire body ringed in the light filtering in from her apartment. Her eyes flashed in anger, her lips moved to alien words. Kolyat lost focus. His eyes burned.

The words changed. There was movement. It wasn't his – a hand lit on his arm, thin fingers curled around his bicep. They pulled him inside. His legs followed. He couldn't see where he was going. Everything burned.

"Oh my God. Kolyat?" Her voice. "Kolyat, what's wrong?"

_It hurts._

"Please, just, Kolyat – come inside. Please. I didn't -"

It wasn't until he felt his body drawn into the light and led to a seat that he shuddered. Oriana retreated. There was the sound of a terminal being lit. He sat, his arms and head heavy. The floor seemed to spin beneath his feet.

He was sick? He was...

"Mom?" That voice again. "Mom, I'll call you back. I've got someone over-"

Kolyat closed his eyes. He opened them when the footsteps sounded again, growing louder when Oriana returned. Small hands touched Kolyat's shoulders. They were warm; unsure. When the hands touched his face, he broke down completely.

The door to Oriana's apartment closed. But she was still there, and for the first time in a long time, Kolyat was not alone.

_(The door always closes, leaving him behind.)_

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** For those of you wondering what happened to Bailey, I suggest reading the latest Mass Effect mini-comic, _Inquisition.  
_


	11. Adagio non Troppo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own_ Mass Effect_.

I would like to apologize for the delayed update, as well as the length of this chapter. My substitute beta, MyFix, threatened bodily harm if I cut any more content.

As for my readers: I can't thank you enough for your interest, or your reviews. I am sorry that I couldn't reply to all of them last chapter, but I will do so for this one. Also, I would like to thank everyone who has made fanart for this story and/or little ole me. I've linked it all on my profile!

Enjoy. :)

* * *

**Scene Ten**

Adagio non Troppo

* * *

_TO: [UNDISCLOSED; VARIOUS]_  
_FROM: Oriana Solheim_  
_SUBJECT: A good cause_

_Hello! I'll be attending the Neylaya Theater charity event in Tayseri at [REDACTED]._

_There's a chance I'll be performing with the Auxua School of the Arts band as an extra violinist. But if not, I'll still be around. It's for a good cause!_

_Hope you can come/watch!_

_- Ori_

* * *

Lugging a violin case up a flight of stairs was never easy, but the Auxua School docking station was only one floor up, and Oriana Lawson had a rule about avoiding elevators if at all possible.

It was too bad that she couldn't evade her thoughts as well.

_Why haven't I heard from them? Miranda, I can understand, maybe... but Kolyat?_

Oriana chewed on her bottom lip as she approached the first flight of stairs. Chewing her lips was not a normal habit of hers. It meant she was anxious. It meant she was worried. It meant she was too damn caught up on...

_I've still got time. Maybe they'll reply to my invitation before I leave._

It was a reasonable plan, Oriana decided. She thumbed the personal correspondence device in her jacket and started to climb, careful to keep her violin case stable at her side. It was times like this when she wondered why she felt compelled to understand everything, classical Earth music included. Why couldn't she have studied the flute, or the harmonica? At least they were easier to carry around.

_He just needs time to get over whatever was bothering him. We did argue, after all._

Oriana stopped in the middle of the stairs and indulged in a long, self-pitying sigh. When she looked up the stairs to the lobby above, some part of her half-expected to see her sister or Kolyat waiting for her.

They weren't, of course. Oriana brushed hair from her forehead and continued walking. Stupid. She was better than this. She was...

_...scared that I did something wrong, that day he came to my door, and I let him in._

There was another reason why Oriana Lawson had chosen to attend the Neylaya Theater charity event. It was an immature, selfish reason, and not one she was proud of, but damn it, Oriana was still allowed a bit of selfishness, wasn't she?

_What else was I supposed to do?_

The reason was simple: She could no longer tolerate the solitude of her apartment, because no matter where or when she slept, she would always wake up and see that chair where _he _had sat, and then she'd start thinking about _him_, and she would start missing _him _and wonder if that was the last time she'd ever see him, and...

_And I can't stop thinking about it. Even after he left, I couldn't stop thinking about it._

Oriana finished climbing the stairs and rolled her shoulders forward and back. The Auxua docking station lobby was a quaint little place, with rows of plush benches and vases of imported flora. The walls were made of partitioned glass, which left the entire Tayseri ward arm open to view. The blinking lights of skyscrapers were half-hidden by the wispy clouds of the Serpent Nebula, and the red and gold lanes of skycars and shuttles that zipped by the dock cast colorful shadows against the floor. Oriana rested her violin against the ground and absorbed the sight for a moment before moving to sit in one of the seats. It wasn't Nos Astra by a long shot, but the space station was still beautiful in its own way. She shrugged off her shoulder harness and set her stuff on the ground, and caught herself wondering if Kolyat ever looked outside and admired the view.

_He couldn't even look at me._

She sat down and pulled out her personal correspondence device. Its screen was cool against the pad of her thumb, and the message it displayed remained the same: NO MESSAGES.

_What are you going to do now, Oriana Lawson?_

Oriana slumped back in her seat with a bit more force than was necessary. She wanted to be upset. Hell, she would have settled for sad, even. But she wasn't. She didn't know how she felt. She just felt... empty. No, maybe_ uncertain_ was a better word.

_Do you even know any more?_

Oriana smoothed her thumbs against her P.C.D. and tucked her heels against the bottom of her chair. And then, left with nothing else to do but wait, she did the same thing she'd done over and over again for days now:

She remembered.

It was embarrassing to look back on, in some ways. Kolyat was a grown male of his species and twice as big as her, but she'd touched him, consoled him, knelt beside him. She hadn't given it a thought; she had just wanted him to look at her, to tell her what was wrong.

Kolyat hadn't said a word, though. He'd just looked at her. Oriana had yet to meet a pair of eyes that could unnerve her so much – they were so alien, little more than two black pools lit by a pale flame. Whenever he looked at her, it felt like he could see right through her white, fleshy skin to the muscle and bone beneath. He couldn't, of course. She'd done her research. Drell vision wasn't that different from a human's, but...

Oriana suppressed a shudder and rubbed at her bare forearms, sparing a glance at the Auxua Shuttle Schedule projected on the wall above her. Yep, she was pining, all right. Or at least, she thought she was. It was a lot different from pining over another human, that was for sure, but her pulse sped up whenever she thought about him all the same. The first time he'd looked at her like that was when they'd been in the skycar, only that time he'd been fine and not... not shivering beneath her hands, not unresponsive, not so _lost_ looking, even if he'd eventually left with an assuring nod and a lingering touch against the back of her hand.

Oriana's hand curled against her lap at the memory. Kolyat seemed to have been feeling better when he'd left, but if that was the case, why hadn't he spoken with her since? Granted, she hadn't pestered him because he needed his space, and her invitation to the theatre was the first message she'd sent him since the incident, and...

...and the plastic of the P.C.D. clanked against Oriana's nails as she flipped the device in her hand and punched the refresh key.

NO MESSAGES.

She pushed it again.

NO MESSAGES.

Nothing from her sister.

NO MESSAGES.

Nothing from her drell.

ONE NEW MESSAGE.

Noth- _wait_. Oriana's heart skipped a beat when she opened her inbox. The view screen flickered and scrolled through a series of thin, holographic lines.

ERROR CONNECTING TO NETWORK. SYNCING.

"You're joking!" she exclaimed, refreshing again. Damn the Citadel and its stupid extranet network and Tayseri's stupid unreliable signal grid and her stupid P.C.D. for not having a booster attachment because she was cheap and spent her credits on fish and Blasto pajamas, and for once in her life (ever since her move from Nos Astra, anyway,) she sort of wished she was more like Miranda because Miranda would have planned for this, except Miranda wouldn't be in this situation to begin with because she was off _saving the galaxy_ or whatever and Miranda probably didn't have pajamas at all and _what did she sleep in anyway_ –

ERROR CONNECTING TO NETWORK. ESTABLISHING CONNECTION.

The sound that Oriana made was not one she could remember making before. Luckily for her, it was also a small sound, and the numerous other Auxua students and visitors sitting in the other rows didn't turn around to stare at her. She refused to believe that the universe was out to make her life miserable, but it was sure starting to feel that way.

What next? Would her violin case sprout wings and fly off into space? The statistical likelihood of that occurring was... small, to say the least, but Oriana settled her elbow against the top of the case anyway,_ just in case _it got any funny ideas.

Oriana set the P.C.D. in her lap and exhaled. There was little else to do but watch the status bar of her extranet signal and wait for it to come back online. She fiddled with the edge of the device, tracing the edge of its contours with her nails, and left her gaze drift out of focus as she observed the shadows that pillowed in her dress.

"Solheim," a warm voice greeted.

Strands of hair flopped in Oriana's face when she looked up. She brushed them aside. "Mr. Sokir," she said, and shifted her legs to the side so the Auxua representative could sit down beside her. "It's nice to see you."

Sokir hadn't changed at all since the first day Oriana had met him. He still smiled and helped her with whatever she needed. She was fortunate to have him as an academic advisor, and while she had grown accustomed to interacting with him on a regular basis, what she had told her father still held true – he was sort of _creepy_. Of course, Oriana's definition of pleasant company had extended to include Surprise Sisters and Morally Ambiguous Drell, so maybe she was in no position to judge.

She smiled.

"Hoping to get there early?" Sokir inquired. He nodded his head at the shuttle schedule projected above them; a soft chime signaled yet another departure. A few humans left for the dock. Oriana watched as a small X3M lifted off the platform and peeled away.

"Yes," she answered, still watching the red tail lights streak into space. "It couldn't hurt. I was hoping to see my parents before things got started."

"I was hoping they would come," Sokir said, sounding pleased. "I made sure to send pamphlets. Here at Auxua, we always make an effort to include the family of our students in any extracurricular activities."

Oriana stared at the correspondence device in her hand. "That's good," she heard herself say.

Sokir seemed to pick up on her mood. And (as his eyes drifted downward to spot the device in her hands,) the source of her attention. "Do you need a boost?" he asked, reaching for his leather-bound suitcase.

"I'm okay," Oriana insisted, sitting straighter and smiling. Sokir chuckled and set his portable terminal against the tops of his knees. He flicked it open.

"Please, allow me. We still have a few minutes." He reached for the extranet router plugged into the base of his terminal. For a split second, Oriana caught a flash of orange bars highlighted in the corner of the terminal's window.

_That's the same insignia that my sister wears._

Sokir flicked the terminal closed. Oriana pretended to be looking somewhere else when Sokir handed the booster over. She feigned surprise and took it with an embarrassed smile. "I would let you tap my signal," he explained with a mouth full of straight, white teeth, "but I know how students are about their privacy."

"Thanks," Oriana said, and attached it to a smaller port on her P.C.D. "I'll only be a minute."

"Take your time."

The P.C.D.'s screen lit with a flash of orange as it logged into the network. Oriana felt her grip on the device tighten when she glanced at Sokir out of the corner of her eye. She had never been a paranoid girl, but recent events and revelations had instilled in her a sense of caution. When it appeared that Sokir had no interest in what she was doing, she opened her extranet inbox and swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.

ONE NEW MESSAGE.

She opened it.

_Hey, Sunshine!  
We may be early leaving the theater. Your father's going to try his hand at some pot roast, so hurry on once you're done rubbing elbows with the locals.  
- xoxoxo Mom xoxoxo_

Almost immediately, a whole slew of emotions welled within Oriana, each vying for supremacy.

Disappointment: _It wasn't Randa at all. It wasn't Kolyat, either._

Shame: _It's still nice to hear from my parents. They're my parents._

Frustration: _I made a big deal out of this for nothing._

Acceptance: _I'm not going to hear from them. That doesn't change anything._

There was a beep when Oriana disconnected the attachment. Sokir looked up from a datapad he'd been studying and took it back when she handed it to him.

"Are you done?" he asked. "The power grid in the Dilinaga District is questionable at best. You may not be able to connect while there."

"I'm done. And thanks."

Sokir nodded and snapped the booster back into his own terminal. Oriana clasped her hands in her lap and stared at the schedule of shuttle departures, mentally counting down to when she would have to leave. The lounge was filling with more students, many of which found seats or talked animatedly by the windows.

"I'll be sure to jot you down for extra credit," Sokir said. He winked at her, his cheeks dimpling. "Although I would rather believe that most of the students doing this are doing so out of good will, and not for an easy grade."

"It could be both," Oriana suggested. There was a beat of silence. "My family likes to hear me play. I do it for them."

"A good reason," Sokir agreed. Something in his voice reminded Oriana of the orange insignia she had glimpsed. "Family is precious."

A rash part of her wanted to ask the dark-eyed man if he knew Miranda. She didn't, of course – Oriana remained quiet and contemplative, watching the shuttles come and go. The comm system chimed with the next round of departures, and Oriana reached down for her stuff, standing a moment later. Sokir smiled and gestured her forward.

"I have business elsewhere," he explained, flashing more white teeth. "But please tell me how it goes."

Oriana forced a smile, hoped that it wouldn't come out looking sarcastic, and made her way to the dock. She was immediately swept up in small crowd of chattering classmates, and she was not looking forward to piling into a shuttle with a bunch of them. She hung back, letting a number of people fill the first two X3Ms, and studied the ward arm that stretched beyond the windows. The skyscrapers felt so distant all of the sudden.

_Just like them._

The thought was unbidden, unwelcome, and true. It followed Oriana into the next available shuttle and settled in the back of her mind where it did a decent job of distracting her from motion sickness, while still managing to make her feel sick.

Life, she'd come to learn, was funny that way.

* * *

Her mood had improved by the time she'd arrived at the Neylaya Theater. It had a lot to do with the fact that her classmate Krista had made it to the event, so Oriana was no longer required as a back-up violinist. This did not prevent the other girls from inducting Oriana into their group, however, and she soon found herself swept through the theater halls with laughing classmates on either side of her.

"Hey, look," one of her friends said. The girl steered Oriana and Krista into a lobby that had a number of alcoves. Clusters of visitors gathered next to the walls and around the entrance to the theater's concert hall. "It's like a mini-museum. They've got it set up so that you can listen to the music from different species – see? Each alcove is designated as an era, and the audio ports on the wall represent different species, starting with asari -"

"It always starts with asari," Krista complained. "So, what, each alcove represents a time period?"

Oriana picked up a pair of audials that had been placed beneath one of the vacant asari ports. She plugged them in her ears and was immediately greeted by the sound of old asari opera.

"It's recommended that you turn off your translator before listening," her first friend suggested. "For an _authentic experience_."

Oriana watched Krista toy with the translator-aid that she wore as an earring. Krista then plugged into a turian port over in the next alcove. When she noticed Oriana watching, she flashed an old-fashioned thumbs-up. Oriana untangled the audials from her own ears and offered them to the other girl, who declined. Oriana set them back on the pedestal.

"I wonder if they have Elvis Presley," her friend wondered. "They have a human port around here somewhere, right? My mom loves ancient stuff like that."

"That's not that _ancient_," Oriana argued. _I like Elvis..._

"Says the girl who specializes in 20th century classical music. That's, like, one step up from Gregorian chant."

"Holy god," Krista blurted. Oriana swiveled just in time to see Krista yank the audials from her ears and put them back on the pedestal. Krista then paused and looked around, no doubt gauging whether there were any turians in the near vicinity. Her next words were spoken in a whisper. "It sounds like _cats mating_."

"What does?" Oriana asked while fluttering her eyelashes. "You attempting to play the violin?"

"No, turian spiritual – hey!"

"It can't be that bad," their other friend insisted. "The song, not Krista. Let me listen."

Krista worked on flipping her translator back on while the other girl flipped hers off and slipped on the audials. Not wanting to feel like dead weight, Oriana shook her head and decided to see what was available at the concession table. She wove through the small crowd of visitors, pausing briefly in front of the doors to the concert hall; currently, the Larathos Institute band (which had commuted all the way from Kithoi Ward) was playing an old asari hymn to the goddess Athame. The hall was filled with civilian spectators, and while the event wasn't supposed to be a competition, Oriana listened with a critical ear. The Larathos players favored wind instruments... interesting. She wondered how their performance would hold up to her strings, or to the Earth pieces her group would be playing.

_They'd love Nielsen. Everyone loves Nielsen's Fifth._

_Well..._

Oriana caught herself smiling.

_Everyone except Kolyat._

The smile faded. Oriana moved from the lobby entry and continued to where the food was, determined not to let her good mood evaporate. She couldn't let it get to her. He just needed his time. Right? And Miranda was probably doing something important, like saving the galaxy (again.) They were busy. She could understand that. Other things came first, before her. There was no reason to feel jealous or alone because she was perfectly happy and blessed beyond belief to have such a good life, good parents, or friends, much less guardian angels -

"Hello," a voice interrupted. Oriana felt her tangle of thoughts disperse. "Will you be making a donation to the continued reconstruction of the Dilinaga Concert Hall?"

The first thing she saw was the stark blue of a C-Sec outfit, and damn her heart for skipping a beat when, for a split second, she thought of _him_ -

But it wasn't him. It was an older human man flanked by a turian and asari security officer. She had passed by the donation booth.

Right. It was called a charity event for a reason.

Oriana hesitated. She could tell them that she was one of the guest musicians and leave it at that, but she drew out a credit chit anyway. There was a small chime as she swept it through the donation kiosk.

_Blessed. Remember that, Ori, _her inner voice chided.

"It's appreciated," the officer said. "Enjoy your stay, ma'am."

Oriana felt her lips curve slightly. _Kolyat would never call me that. _"You're welcome."

The ancient art of finger-food had changed little over time. The food on display in the lounge was no exception, even if it had a few alien variables tossed in. Oriana wasn't that hungry, but a few crackers couldn't hurt, could they?

Oriana waited for a pair of asari to finish piling their plates before she moved in. She picked at a few crackers and sampled a few dips, one of which looked suspiciously salarian. It took everything in her power to avoid the asari food, but after her mother's heckling, Oriana was determined to try new things. It had been embarrassing enough when Kolyat had fooled her with the noodles...

She really needed to stop thinking about him.

_After he appeared on your doorstep shaken and unresponsive? No way in hell._

_He's not coming. Forget about it._

_He needed me. I was there for him!_

_Maybe you're the one who needs him._

_That's not true._

_Why are you arguing with yourself?_

_Because I'm – oh! Cheese wedges!_

Among the many guilty pleasures Oriana had in life, good old-fashioned cheese wedges were among the guiltiest and most pleasurable. They were so simple, so _human_; it was hard to pass them up. As soon as she spotted the plate she made her way to it, expertly weaving around chatting guests until she reached the end of the table. She was in luck! There were only a few left. She reached for a toothpick -

"Condescendingly: Are you going to eat those?"

Oriana froze and looked up into the impassive face of an elcor wearing a violet caparison. Something in her memory tickled.

"Yes," she replied, slowly. She dropped a wedge on her plate, then another, never taking her eyes from the elcor. Its beady eyes glittered.

"With disdain: Humans are known for their greed."

"There's still one left."

"Sarcastically: How thoughtful of you."

Oriana smiled. "Elcor are known for their gentle temperament and unassuming nature." Stealing a look around, Oriana spiked the last cheese wedge and brought it to her mouth. She could almost hear the elcor's sharp intake of breath.

"I guess there are always exceptions," she concluded, giving the wedge one single, wet lick, before plopping it back on the plate. "Enjoy."

For a split second, their eyes locked. The sculpted skin around the elcor's mouth twitched.

"With obvious disgust: _Well played._"

"Hey, Solheim!" The familiar sound of Krista's voice snapped Oriana back to the present. Before she could say anything, Krista had already appeared at her side and stolen one of the cheese wedges off her plate. "We're up next," the girl said between chewing. "Better get ready."

"You still want me to play?" Oriana glanced down at her plate. "And _ask _next time."

"That was for making fun of me earlier," Krista admonished. "And sure. You still up for it?"

"It would justify me dragging my violin all the way here, I guess..."

"Good." Krista patted Oriana on the back. "I might have said something to the program coordinator about one of us playing a solo version of Nielsen's Fifth _adagio_ -"

Oriana groaned. "You didn't."

"C'mon, Ori. I know music isn't your major, but pretend you're playing for your boyfriend or something."

The entire time they'd been talking, they'd been heading to the Concert Hall. Oriana grimaced when Krista snatched her plate and handed her a music sheet and her violin case.

"I don't have a boyfriend." She sounded more annoyed than she felt. Krista hesitated.

"You don't? What about that scaly dude..."

_Oh, come on! Not you, too! _"I don't."

"Oh. Problems in paradise? I saw what happened at the bar, but..."

Oriana's eyes narrowed. Krista stopped and held up her hands.

"Okay, okay," she amended. "I get it. No more questions."

"Good," Oriana sniffed, opening her violin case. "Then I'll play."

"Thanks, Solheim. We owe you one."

Krista left to retrieve her own instrument. Oriana peered through the concert hall's main entryway and watched the last of the Larathos band disperse from the stage, laughing and clapping each other on the shoulder. A few of her Auxua classmates were already getting set up. The lights above the stage were bright; the crowd was milling, getting ready for the next performance. Oriana felt her breath hitch, but it was a nice kind of hitch – she liked performing. She was good at it.

She only wished...

Oriana spotted a familiar face – no, two familiar faces – sitting in the crowd. Her parents waved at her, and their smiles made her insecurities feel suddenly very small.

Emboldened, Oriana slipped back into a side-hall and worked on giving her violin a quick tuning. It was only then that she felt something vibrating against her chest. Startled, she retrieved the P.C.D. that she had tucked into her jacket earlier.

CONNECTING TO NETWORK... CONNECTED.  
ONE NEW MESSAGE.

Swallowing her excitement, Oriana hit 'Open' before she lost the signal.

_Ori,  
I apologize for not replying earlier, but my attention was needed elsewhere. A trusted source is recording your performance for me. It'll be the first thing I watch when I get back from my mission. I have also made a modest contribution to the charity that organized the event.  
One day I will listen to you play in person. This I promise. Until then... thank you for inviting me.  
- Randa_

"Hey, Solheim. You ready?" The rest of the Auxua musicians were filing onto the stage. Krista was peeping into the hall and waggling her eyebrows.

Oriana slipped the device back into her jacket.

"Yeah," she breathed. She was smiling. Her eyes felt wet. "I'm ready."

Instrument in hand, she stepped onto the stage and into the light.

* * *

Oriana was still blinking spots from her eyes when she left the stage.

"Hey!" Krista was crowing, a huge grin on her face. "Someone go check the donation pool. I wanna know if we raked in more credits after our performance than those Larathos losers."

"It wasn't a competition," another classmate berated.

"Uh, hello? Standing ovation?"

"They got one of those, too."

"But did they have a_ solo_?"

The back-and-forth continued. Oriana was in the midst of locking her violin back in its case when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her friend from earlier was smiling down at her.

"Great job with the solo."

"Thanks," Oriana replied. She felt the back of her neck flush.

"I know Krista spun that on you last minute..."

"It's okay. It was fun."

"Sure you don't want to change your major to music?"

Oriana shook her head. "Sorry. My heart's in colony development."

"Suit yourself. Hey, me and some of the girls are heading to the Dark Star to celebrate. You wanna..."

Oriana hesitated. "No thanks. I promised my parents I would eat with them."

"Oh, that's sweet." Her friend pulled away. "They're here?"

"They left right after our performance. Dad wanted to get home in time to have dinner ready for me."

Her friend sighed dramatically. "Oh, so you get a nice, soulful family evening, and I'm stuck babysitting the drunks."

Oriana grinned. "Being responsible sucks, huh?"

"I guess it's better than being a drunk and having _Krista_ babysit me."

"You'd wake up naked in the middle of the Presidium lake with no idea how you got there."

"Exactly."

"Hey!" Krista jogged over to them, panting slightly. "I heard my name."

Oriana and her friend exchanged glances.

"Never mind," Krista said, though not before giving them a suspicious look. "Our troop is ready to head out. Some of the Larathos band is joining us. Is Oriana coming?"

"She's eating with her parents."

Krista nodded and gave Oriana a long, unreadable look. "Speaking of... A little bird told me that someone was asking about you."

Oriana stood up with her violin case in hand. Her brows lowered. "Who, me?"

Krista was grinning. "Yeah... a _guy_."

"Who?"

"You'll see." Krista grabbed the other girl and sprinted toward the theater exit, her blonde hair whipping behind her. "Good luck!"

Oriana stood in place, momentarily stunned, before shaking her head to clear it. Why did she need friends, again? They were way more trouble than they were worth.

With her personal belongings tucked under her arms, Oriana headed for the opposite exit, where the inter-Tayseri Ward dock was located. The Neylaya Theater lobby was a lot more crowded than it had been earlier as the Concert Hall began to empty, and Oriana squeezed her way through the crowd, hoping to get away unnoticed. If she was late to dinner, her parents would never forgive her. (Well, that wasn't true. They'd always forgive her, but the meal would be cold.)

As she passed by the donation kiosk and its C-Sec guards, and then past the buffet, she couldn't help but glance to where she'd had her confrontation. The elcor was nowhere in sight, and – upon closer inspection – neither was the cheese wedge. For a split second, Oriana felt guilty. Someone had to have eaten it. Dear God, what if a turian had eaten it? What if it had an allergic reaction and died from trace amounts of her saliva? Could it be traced back to her? Would that qualify as manslaughter?

_A turian isn't going to eat a cheese wedge to begin with, _her inner Miranda-voice scolded. _Nevertheless, that was extremely immature of you, Oriana Lawson._

Oriana must have spent longer than she realized looking at the empty plate, because a slight jostle at her elbow pulled her from her thoughts. She turned around and felt her brain screech to a halt.

"My bad," said Danner Gossimah as he balanced a plate of fruit slices in one hand. "Didn't see you."

For a split second, Oriana had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry," she blurted before she could think.

"Hey," Danner – _oh God, it's really him, he's actually looking at me_ – ventured. "You're with Auxua, right?"

"Yes," she answered, surprisingly calm. "I'm a student."

"You played the violin." Danner's blue eyes flashed with approval. He glanced down at the instrument case in her hand and grimaced. "I guess that was obvious."

"Yeah," Oriana heard herself mumble. She had no idea where to hold her gaze. Should she look at his eyes when talking to him? His lips? His neck? His nostrils? She never had that problem when talking to aliens. They were weird everywhere.

"I'm only here because my parents catered the food. Not a music person, no offense," Danner admitted while popping another cracker into his mouth. "I'm into -"

"Sports," Oriana blurted. Again. Danner blinked.

"You're wearing a jersey," she explained, avoiding his eyes.

"Right," Danner said, looking down at his clothes. "I'm just visiting for a few weeks, though. Heading back home tomorrow."

His next question caught her off-guard.

"Do I know you?"

For the first time since they'd bumped into each other, Oriana looked him in the eye.

_We went to school together before I moved. We were in the same class. I used to daydream about you during lectures. Stupid, right? I even talked about you with my sister. About your eyes, and how to get you to notice me. You're noticing me right now. This is my chance. My last and only - _

"No," she whispered. "I don't think so."

"Huh," he laughed. "I thought you looked familiar. Sorry about that."

"The Citadel is a big place."

"Yeah. I can't wait to go back home." He popped another cracker into his mouth and scanned the crowd. "Guess I'll see you around."

_You won't._

The last Oriana saw of him was the flash of a jersey disappearing into the crowd. She stood in place for a few seconds, her lips working wordlessly against each other, before turning to leave.

Why had she done that?

_What do you want, Oriana Lawson? _It was the same old question._ Do you even know any more?_

"I guess not," she said to no one, and stepped out into the Neylaya Theater shuttle dock. _Or maybe I do, and it's just hard to admit._

The Neylaya inter-Ward dock wasn't much different from the one back at Zakera, although there were more C-Sec officers standing post. The problems of Tayseri Ward did not escape Oriana's notice – her parents had reminded her multiple times about the gang wars that blossomed in the slums as part of her weekly safety lecture – but it still surprised her how homesick it made her feel. She was so used to the same old 27th floor dock where Haron manned the security screen, and where the racist turian had all his tirades, and where the same two hanar were always arguing (what DID they argue about?) and, hell, she even missed passing Captain Bailey in the lobby, only he wasn't there any more...

Oriana's heart sank when she approached an available shuttle. Pallin... Yes, she'd seen the news.

The door to the shuttle slid open. Oriana slid her violin case inside and leaned it against the passenger seat before stopping to program her destination into the shuttle's auto-pilot. She was glad that her parents had invited her to eat. She didn't think she could handle a big crowd and a lot of ruckus, not with all these half-finished thoughts flying around in her head. Oriana slid into the shuttle and sat, pulling the door closed behind her. Now...

Without warning, the passenger door snapped open. Oriana froze, eyes wide, as someone slid into the seat next to her. She stared at the intruder, disbelief no doubt coloring her face.

Kolyat frowned. "What?"

Oriana's lips parted. She continued to stare at the leather-clad drell who had so casually hijacked her shuttle. To his credit, he hadn't shut the door – one of his long legs was still planted on the ground outside. He looked to her, his black eyes inscrutable.

"Should I get out?" he asked, still frowning.

Oriana's mouth closed. And then, before she knew it, she was grinning, and then she was laughing, and oh God she was going to KILL HIM -

"Jerk," she laughed, but her hand betrayed her when it lit on the drell's tension-riddled arm. "Shut the door."

The canopy sealed with a soft click. When Oriana next looked at Kolyat Krios, the teal-scaled drell's frown had transformed into a tentative smirk. The difference was subtle, but it was there.

"You look surprised," he wheedled.

"I'm... oh my God, Kolyat, you _arse_!" Before she knew it, her hand had connected with the drell's shoulder. "You scared me!"

Kolyat eyed her hand. "Don't do that."

"Why? Did it hurt?"

"No. It's annoying."

"Whatever. And watch the violin case!"

Kolyat's eyelids did that funny double-blink thing when he looked down at the case leaning next to his left leg. He frowned and rearranged his legs, careful not to bump it too hard. "Is that what that is?"

"Yes, and it's worth more than my tuition. So don't break it."

With a hum of anti-gravity generators, the shuttle they were in lifted off. Oriana secured her harness and Kolyat did the same. Her hands were shaking – from shock? Excitement? It was impossible to tell.

"I didn't know you were here," Oriana admitted, careful not to stumble over her words. She wanted to ask whether he'd gotten her invitation, but stopped herself short. Kolyat was leaning into his seat, but his back was rigid, and so were his arms. He was nervous, she realized. When he looked at her, she could read faint lines of tension in the plated scales of his brow.

"I was asked to help," the drell explained, his rasping voice unusually slow and meticulous. "A few of the C-Sec officers from our precinct were invited... I came with Haron." Kolyat's shoulders twitched in a shrug. "It was a chance for me to work off some hours. Never been to Tayseri before."

"Oh." Oriana resisted the impulse to chew on her bottom lip. "So you _had_ to come." _My invitation had nothing to do with it. _

Kolyat said nothing for a number of heartbeats. Oriana stared at the dashboard in front of her. Lights from other vehicles streaked by their shuttles tinted windows; the navigation grid in front of her flickered, scrolling numbers and coordinates in a continuous loop.

"No," Kolyat said at last. There was a hard edge to his voice. "I didn't."

Oriana looked at him, wondering if he was angry. He didn't look angry, however – he was staring ahead at the distant lights of skyscrapers, his gaze just as distant. Oriana felt something cool wrinkle beneath her fingertips and she glanced down only to find that she'd never removed her hand from his arm. The muscles beneath her hand were still.

"I was starting to wonder," Oriana ventured, unsure if Kolyat was even listening. She was insanely curious to know what was going through his mind, and a part of her felt like she deserved an explanation. "You know, if you'd gotten my invitation."

Kolyat tore his eyes from the skyline and focused on her. The distant haze to his gaze was gone; his pupils were pale and sharp. Oriana suppressed a shudder, but kept her eyes locked on his. He didn't blink. Neither did she.

"About what happened," he began. He paused, breaking the stare with a flicker of his inner eyelids. Oriana blinked on instinct. "At your apartment. It..."

Silence. Oriana felt her fingers twitch against Kolyat's arm. He glanced down, as though noticing the touch for the first time. Oriana swallowed around a lump in her throat and fought the instinct to take her hand away. She could almost feel his gaze burning against the back of her knuckles.

"It just happened," he finished, his voice a mumble.

Oriana raised an eyebrow. If she'd been expecting some in-depth explanation to what his problem had been, it looked like she was going to be disappointed. "Kolyat," she began, fully intending to pry the information out of him, "it's..."

No.

It wasn't fair. It'd be like someone asking her why she'd cried after talking to her dad. Kolyat's gaze was downcast; he was clearly ashamed.

"...okay," she finished, and gave his arm a squeeze. "I'm glad you came to me."

Kolyat looked at her again. The burning sensation must have traveled from her knuckles to her face, because Oriana felt her cheeks redden when their eyes met.

"I'm glad you let me in," he replied, his voice deadpan.

Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Oriana felt her lips twitch. "I almost didn't."

"You yelled at me."

"I was mad at you."

"And now?"

Oriana found that she was reluctant to answer. She let her gaze roam down Kolyat's face, traveling along the dark stripes that marked his cheeks and frill. "No," she admitted, studying the line that middle his lips and chin. "What about you?"

It took longer for Kolyat to answer. The wait made Oriana uncomfortable. If he was still caught up on the argument they'd had at the bar, she was going to beat him with her violin.

"No," he said. He seemed to relax. Oriana's gaze flickered back up to his eyes; she hoped he hadn't caught her staring. It wasn't her fault he was so... unusual. _He's no Danner, but..._

"It was wrong of me to say you were jealous," Oriana said before she could stop herself. "Of... you know. I made it worse."

Kolyat's expression darkened, but he didn't look away or attempt to dislodge the hand she had resting on his arm. A good sign. "I wasn't," he said.

"Then what was the problem?" Damn it. She'd promised not to pry.

"It was bigger than him," Kolyat snapped. "Or you."

Oriana arched an eyebrow and bit back a sassy reply. This was not the time for another argument. She could beat him with her violin case later. "Okay, then. Have you dealt with it?"

She didn't expect an answer, so Kolyat's quiet response surprised her. "I'm working on it."

Oriana smiled and gave Kolyat's arm another small squeeze, unsure of what else to do. "That's good." She wanted to remind Kolyat of what she had said, about being there and being his friend – to not let him forget that, because she'd meant it – but she decided against it at the last minute. Drell had perfect memories. He didn't need to be reminded. She hoped not, anyway.

A foreign weight cut her thoughts short. Oriana stared down at the black-gloved hand that had settled over her own. There was a pounding noise in her ears. Oriana recognized it as her heartbeat. She felt dizzy. Was she motion sick? What God-awful timing. If she puked on Kolyat and ruined this moment –

Wait, what moment? This was not a _moment_. They were just talking. She was being nice. He was touching her. They were holding hands.

They were... holding... hands?

_Alert! Alert! Improbable situation detected!_

Oriana pitched forward as their shuttle swapped lanes. Kolyat made a strangled noise; his fingers closed over hers on instinct. Oriana rocked backwards. The lights of the Tayseri skyline blurred together.

"I'm going to be sick," she announced with all the dignity that she could muster. Kolyat stared at her, alarmed. His hand left hers. She looked down at where it had been. Wow. What loyalty.

"Not on me," Kolyat warned, inching away. His knee bumped the violin case.

"I'm not going to puke," Oriana complained. She leaned back in her seat and took a steadying breath. Her mind stopped swimming, but only by a little. "A little support would be nice, you know."

"What am_ I _supposed to do?" Kolyat demanded. To his credit, he sounded genuinely concerned.

"You could treat me like a person and not a vomit dispenser," Oriana suggested, feigning offense.

Kolyat made a face. "That's disgusting."

"And untrue. I've never once vomited in a shuttle."

Kolyat stopped inching away. Oriana had no idea if it was due to him having a change of heart, or because he had run out of space. Oriana fought a smile and rubbed a hand over her eyes, praying she didn't smear her makeup. The skin of her hand smelled like leather. It was a nice smell, but she wasn't about to stop and sniff her cuticles with Kolyat eyeing her like that.

So much for the _moment_.

"Where are we going?" Kolyat asked. He was looking out the shuttle windows. Oriana pulled her hand away.

"You're only asking that _now_?"

Kolyat swiveled to look at her. The fins that crowned the top of his head caught the interior light in strange ways. "Aren't we going back to Zakera?"

Oriana sat up in her seat and ignored the queasy protest of her stomach. "_I_ am going to my parent's."

Kolyat stared. Oriana could have sworn that the color drained from the ribbing of his jaw and neck.

"_What?_" he warbled.

"I'm going to see my parents."

Kolyat redirected his stare to the shuttle's navigation grid. "Drop me off somewhere else."

"No way," Oriana protested. "We're almost there!"

A line of colorful drell expletives emanated from Kolyat's throat. Oriana blinked. "Fine," he acquiesced with a growl. "I'll ride back once we get there."

"You don't have to," Oriana ventured. "You could come inside."

Kolyat was as quiet as he was still.

"You could eat with us," Oriana continued. "My parents wouldn't mind." Well, she didn't know that for sure, but... "My dad always cooks too much."

That seemed to capture Kolyat's interest. He cocked his head. "Your father cooks?"

_Crisis averted._ "He does," Oriana said, settling back in her seat. Kolyat hesitated, but did the same, although his shoulders still looked tense. "I miss home cooking."

"Why?" Kolyat wondered. "You can cook for yourself."

Oriana stared at the dash in front of her, partly to avoid looking at the large drell, partly to avoid looking at the scenery flashing by around them. "It's not something I'm good at," she said, wincing.

"Why not?"

"I, er... burn things."

A throaty chuff made Oriana look up again. "You never told me that," Kolyat said.

"Why would I?" Oriana grumbled.

"If you had," Kolyat continued, his voice adopting a deep, confident burr, "I would have had something made all those times you came to visit."

Oriana brushed stray strands of hair from her eyes and stared at the subtle, curving smirk that split the plates of Kolyat's face. "You can cook?"

"Yes."

Oriana narrowed her eyes. "Well?"

"Yes," Kolyat repeated. There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I never would have guessed," Oriana confessed. "You don't strike me as a chef."

Kolyat curled his fingers into a fist. He appeared to be studying the backs of his gloved hands. Silence descended between them. Oriana was tempted to close her eyes as motion sickness once more reared its ugly head. Her eyelids lowered.

"My mother taught me," Kolyat said. He uncurled his fists. Oriana's eyes snapped open. She watched small shadows play across the tendons of the drell's larger, more muscled hands. Her gaze drifted to his two fused digits.

"Oh," Oriana stumbled, taken off-guard. Never, not once, had she _ever _heard Kolyat mention his mother. She'd given up hope on him ever talking about his life before the Citadel. Was this the result of his breakdown? What had changed?

_Think, Oriana! Think!_

"She was a good cook?"

To her surprise, Kolyat dipped his chin in something resembling a nod. His pupils flicked over to Oriana; she felt herself meet his gaze on instinct.

"You must know a lot of drell dishes," she continued. Her curiosity was nigh insufferable. It clawed around inside of her head, starved for information, demanding to be appeased.

"And some human ones," Kolyat clarified. "I picked up a few after coming to the Citadel."

Oriana pressed her cheek into the edge of her seat and grinned at him. "Better not be ramen."

"Ramen?" Kolyat's eyelids flickered. "Isn't that the delicacy that they sell at the Stand?"

"You believe that? Ramen is, like, military paste for college students."

Kolyat's jaw twitched. "Then it's a lie."

"False advertising. Just another thing all species have in common."

"_Or _you're still upset about the noodles."

Oriana rolled her eyes. "You _would_ bring that up."

"Perfect memory," Kolyat quipped. The fingers he had resting on his armrests curled. Oriana rolled her hips and shoulders back as he sat up in his seat and stared out the front of the shuttle. "Are we stopping?" he asked.

The nervous warble of her companion's voice forced Oriana to abandon her drowsy state. She mimicked her companion and sat up, unconsciously straightening her hair as she did so. Her parent's apartment building loomed in front of them. She could see the glass-paneled balcony where they lived, as well as the 35th floor dock where she and Kolyat would land.

"That's it," Oriana confirmed. She looked to Kolyat and smiled. He was tense again, his pupils pale and dilated, his grip on the armrests tighter than normal. "It's okay. Really. They won't mind."

Kolyat mumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm serious. The alien angle doesn't bother them." _I hope not, anyway._

Kolyat eyed the rapidly approaching dock. "How comforting," he grumped.

"Yeah, well, you're the one who jumped in without asking where I was going."

The shuttle touched down. Oriana reached and unlatched her harness. After a moment's hesitation, Kolyat did the same. The sound of the metal clasp snapping back against the alloy of the shuttle reverberated through the shuttle's interior. The muscles of Kolyat's neck rippled. It was the only visual cue that betrayed the drell's anxiety, and if Oriana hadn't spent as much time around him as she had, she never would have caught it.

"You can still go back," she said as the canopy opened. The artificial air of the Wards washed over them. She felt the hair on her neck and arms prickle.

"I have a choice?" Kolyat asked with a curl of his lip. He wasn't buying it.

Oriana shrugged. "You always do."

He looked at her. Something passed over his face, a fleeting thing that Oriana couldn't describe, but it made her lips pull back in a smile.

They stepped out of the shuttle together.

* * *

What a terrible idea.

"Sunshine! Honey, I... who is your friend?"

What a terrible, awful,_ horrible_ idea.

"His name is Kolyat, mom."

Oriana had hoped that the first person to meet them would have been her father. That was, of course, not to be. Oriana's horror had nothing to do with her adoptive mother as a person – Mrs. Solheim was both intelligent and kind, with a shrewd business sense that made her the financial support of the family – so no, it had nothing to do with her mother as a person, and everything to do with the glossy black lipstick, low-slung, skin-baring dress and three-inch high-heels that her mother wore.

Oriana squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that a stray bullet would come sailing through the wall and straight through her head, because instant death looked kind of nice right then.

Mrs. Solheim smiled politely and held out her manicured hand. Oriana stared at her mother's nail polish.

That was _her_ nail polish.

"It's nice to meet you, Kolyat," Mrs. Solheim said to the dazed-looking drell. Kolyat nictated at the outstretched limb before offering his own. They shook hands, the gesture as awkward-looking as Oriana had feared. "I hope I'm pronouncing that correctly," Mrs. Solheim continued.

"Yes," Kolyat said. "Miss... Solheim."

"I wasn't aware you were bringing anyone," Mrs. Solheim said. Her gaze zeroed in on Oriana.

Kolyat took a step back. "I can -"

Oriana snagged the drell's arm with the hand that _wasn't _clutching her violin case, thus halting his mad sprint out the door. "I'm sorry," she said, giving her mother a little shrug. "It was last minute..."

"Well, what are you standing around outside for?" Mrs. Solheim gestured inside the apartment. "We have more than enough food for a guest. Make yourself at home. My husband is in the main room. Introduce yourself."

Oriana had no intention of letting Kolyat's arm go, and it seemed that Kolyat had no intention of leaving her side. The drell's entire body was rigid as it brushed against her own, and Oriana spared a glance up at him. "Sorry about the awkward," she whispered.

Kolyat looked down at her. His eyes widened, growing impossibly larger, and the light that beamed in from the main room highlighted every detail of his pale, dilated irises. "This was _your _idea," he hissed.

"You_ hijacked_ my shuttle," she hissed back, and shot him a dirty look for good measure.

"You could have told me!"

"You had a choice!"

"I can't go back now," he argued, grimacing with every step they took toward the main room. Oriana could hear the sound of a vid playing full-blast accompanied by the tap of her mother's heels in the kitchen. "It would be..."

"Impolite?"

"Yes!"

"Let me guess. Hanar manners?"

It was Kolyat's turn to shoot Oriana a dirty look. It was a look that said he was going to hold everything that happened here against her for the rest of his mortal existence. It didn't help that their progress was being impeded by his dragging feet. Oriana dug her elbow into his side. He shoved at her shoulder with his own. She pinched his arm; he cursed.

"I don't mean to interrupt your whispering," Mrs. Solheim cut in. Both Oriana and Kolyat froze in place. The older woman was standing by the small stairwell that led to the dining area. "I hope you're not discussing something... inappropriate."

The only thing more embarrassing than her mother's choice in clothes was her mother's smirk. Oriana squeezed her eyes shut once more. _Bullet, take me now._

But no, nothing was going to save her. It was up to her to take charge of this situation. Oriana straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. When she realized her mother was eyeing Kolyat's leather, his scales, his zippers, and the arm Oriana was currently clasping, Oriana grit her teeth and let go. Kolyat's body twitched once at the sudden loss of contact, but that was it.

Deep breaths.

"Mom," Oriana began, "We were..."

Mrs. Solheim chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, lighten up. I was joking."

"Sure," Oriana drawled. She gave Kolyat an apologetic nudge. "My mom has a bad sense of humor."

For a split second, all attention was focused on the drell. Kolyat's plated brows twitched once, but otherwise his alien face was impossible to read.

"I wouldn't say that," he said at last.

Mrs. Solheim winked at her daughter. "I like this one. He compliments me."

"Mom!"

"Never mind," the older woman tittered. "Go, have a seat. The food is almost ready."

Oriana led Kolyat into the main room. The apartment was bigger than the one-bedroom she owned back at Zakera, but the layout was much the same. Her adoptive father was sitting in a lounge chair in front of a wide-screen vid; he sat up when Oriana and her companion entered. There was no disguising the shock that crossed his face when he took notice of the tall, sullen-faced drell that was doing a good job of staring at nothing in particular. Oriana set her violin case against the sofa and awaited the inevitable reaction.

"This is unexpected," the older man confessed.

"I know," Oriana said. Her mind was ablaze with a thousand different excuses ordered from most to least efficient. "We were-"

Mr. Solheim waved his hand. "Sunshine, is this a courtroom?"

Oriana frowned and looked at Kolyat, who looked just as baffled as she felt. "No?" she replied.

"Then there's no need to jump to his defense," Mr. Solheim finished. He motioned at a nearby sofa. "Come, sit. What's your name?"

Oriana opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off. "Kolyat," the drell replied. Kolyat seemed to have recovered from most of his shock. He was instead studying Oriana's adoptive father with a careful, guarded expression. The sudden shift in demeanor prickled Oriana's interest. She was just about to pull him over to a sofa when she felt her mother's hand light on her shoulder.

"You," her mother whispered. "Me. Kitchen." The weight disappeared from Oriana's shoulder. She could hear the tap of her mother's heels retreating.

Oriana stepped back. When Kolyat turned to look at her, she shook her head and smiled. "I'll be right back. Go ahead and sit down."

Kolyat's fingers and brow twitched again, but he said nothing as he went to sit on the sofa.

"Kolyat, huh?" her father was saying. "Where are you from?"

The sound of his voice faded as Oriana made her way back to the kitchen. She prayed that the distance was out of range of drell hearing as well, because the predatory look her mother had when it was the two of them alone was not comforting.

Oriana was the first to speak. "Mom, I can explain."

"Oriana, please." Mrs. Solheim retrieved a number of dishes and began setting them on the table. Oriana hesitated and started to help. For a long moment the only sound was of the vid still blaring from the main room, and the clink of plastic.

"Your father outdid himself this time," Mrs. Solheim said. "Potato soup. He knows you love potato soup." She retrieved a number of napkins. "I hope your friend finds something to eat."

"He'll be fine," Oriana insisted. "He's not dextro or anything."

There was another pause before Mrs. Solheim spoke again. "Oriana..."

"Mom, I can -"

"Was he the one you had to see?"

Oriana stopped working and frowned. "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Solheim studied her adopted daughter from across the table. "Our last vidchat was interrupted because someone came over to see you."

Oriana felt her throat seize up at the memory. _Kolyat..._ "That was him."

"You sounded worried."

"I was. It's... It's better now."

There was yet another pause. "I'm not going to interrogate you," the older woman continued. "Not today. Relax."

It was good advice. There were a lot of things Oriana was not looking forward to explaining, most of which had to do with Kolyat's background. But the problem wasn't new; she'd been thinking her way around it ever since the talk with Mouse. She'd figure it out.

Mrs. Solheim crossed her arms. "But you know, Sunshine, when I talked about asari boyfriends..."

"He's not an asari, mom."

"The coloration is close." Mrs. Solheim was smiling, although the smile was unsure. "I'm not going to make him feel unwelcome. He seems very... nice."

Oriana rolled her eyes. "He wasn't expecting to meet you guys, you know."

"This was not well-planned."

"No, but..." Oriana made a frustrated noise. "Can you at least play along?"

"Play along? Oriana, I'm very _interested_. Do you know how rare drell are?"

Oriana glanced to the doorway. She prayed that Kolyat and her father were getting along; the fact that she couldn't hear them only made her nervous, and she hated feeling nervous. "I told him the species thing didn't matter."

"Of course not. I work in public relations, Sunshine. I've seen almost everything." Mrs. Solheim's expression turned contemplative. "Did you know that their saliva has hallucinogenic properties?"

"I – what?"

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "I always did tease you about being on drugs, but I never thought you'd _date_ a drug just to spite me."

"Mom!"

Mrs. Solheim sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'm not your father. I can't make this situation any less awkward for you with humor, but I will try to make dinner painless, at least."

Oriana felt herself relax. "Thanks. That's all I want."

"Good, so stop looking horrified. And go tell the boys that the food is ready."

It felt like Oriana couldn't make it back to the main room fast enough. Her feet quickened down the stairs and across the floor, the sound of her footfalls rivaled only by the pounding of her heart. _Please let Kolyat forgive me. We only just patched things up. Please let Kolyat forgive me. We only just patched things up. Please let Kolyat –_

The first thing Oriana saw was her father, still sitting where he had been, followed by Kolyat, who was sitting on the far side of the sofa. The drell turned his head when Oriana entered.

"Okay," Mr. Solheim was saying. His attention was directed at the vidscreen in front of him – or, to be precise, at the sports game that was unfolding _on_ the vidscreen. "Baltimore Orioles or Kyoto Katanas? Keep in mind that the wrong answer will force me to kick you out of my house."

Oriana's stomach flipped. "What..." she began.

Kolyat scowled and chuffed, "Neither."

Mr. Solheim's eyes locked on the drell. "Neither?" he repeated.

Kolyat twitched his shoulders. "They both sound stupid."

Silence.

Mr. Solheim burst out laughing. "I_ knew_ I liked you!"

Kolyat appeared startled by the older human's reaction. He looked at Oriana.

She shrugged. "Dad's a Detroit Tigers fan."

"Damn straight!" Mr. Solheim got up and clapped Kolyat's shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to eat." He threw his free hand around Oriana's shoulders and kissed her cheek. Oriana felt herself redden. "I've missed you, Sunshine."

"Er, me too, dad." It was embarrassing to know Kolyat was there to see her parents' doting behavior. Oriana peeked over her father's shoulder and expected to see the drell sneering at her.

But Kolyat wasn't. His plated brows were turned up, and his lips were pressed thin, and his eyes – his eyes were somewhere else entirely, his gaze distant and sad.

Oriana reached behind her father's back and touched Kolyat on the hand. The drell nictated and something in his eyes cleared. Oriana smiled at him, but her smile felt sad, and she didn't know why.

"Stay with me," she whispered, trying to sound playful.

Kolyat studied her. Mr. Solheim had since disengaged himself from his daughter and entered the kitchen. Oriana was sure her hair was ruffled where his arm had brushed by her, but for once in her life, she didn't immediately move to fix it.

"Like I have a choice," the drell said at last.

"You always do."

Kolyat's lips twitched upwards, but it was far from a smile – so far, at least. "I'm not known for my wise decisions," he rasped, as though quoting someone from memory. He probably was.

"It's not too late to make a change."

Kolyat's eyes dilated. "No," he murmured. "Not too late."

They entered the kitchen together.

* * *

The Wards looked prettier on a full stomach.

"Most things do," Mrs. Solheim had observed. She'd then given Oriana a long, calculated look that reminded Oriana of Miranda. "So don't get any funny ideas."

Mrs. Solheim had then vanished before her daughter could respond, leaving it up to Oriana to "show Kolyat around." Seeing as Oriana had no intention to introduce Kolyat to her parents' bedroom, that left the miniature lounge and balcony as the only unexplored room in her parents' apartment complex. The door to the hall slid shut behind them, leaving the two of them alone.

"Shouldn't we help?" Kolyat asked after a minute. "Clean the dishes, or...?"

Oriana shook her head. "They can handle it." She frowned. "Wash-bots exist for a reason."

"Washing by hand is better."

"Yeah, well, some of us have sensitive skin." Oriana chuckled. "I'm pretty sure this was an elaborate excuse to get us alone, anyway."

Kolyat shot Oriana a funny look. She shrugged it off and stood in front of the glass panels that led to the exterior portion of the balcony. She considered going outside, but decided against it. The way the light of the wards played across the glass was nice to look at, and it was quiet inside. Perfect for a conversation... as long as her parents kept their distance.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?" Oriana turned to face the drell who hadn't moved from the center of the room. "Did anyone know you were leaving the theater?"

"I told Haron I was."

"When do you have to be back?"

Kolyat twitched his shoulders. The gesture was so familiar, even more familiar than asari body language, and Oriana had grown up on Illium. "Not for a few cycles," he replied.

It was weird how a room could feel even more cramped than the interior of a shuttle, but the space that separated Oriana and Kolyat seemed suddenly suffocating. They hadn't had a chance to just talk without distraction since...

"You're adopted?"

Oriana's nose twitched at the question. She hadn't seen that coming... Then again, she hadn't expected Kolyat to swing Tarzan-style into the passenger seat of her shuttle, either. Today was just full of surprises.

"Yes," she answered, and tilted her head. "Why do you ask?"

Kolyat's arms were hanging loose at his side. He took a step forward, then back, as though pacing in place. He stopped and frowned at the floor before meeting Oriana's eyes. "They love you."

"They do." Oriana caught herself smiling. "They can be annoying sometimes, but... I have good parents."

Kolyat said nothing, but appeared to bob his head in a nod. His eyes had that distant look again. Oriana shifted her weight and "accidentally" brushed at his elbow with her own. The drell nictated; his eyes cleared.

Oriana pretended not to have seen. "I think my mom forgets her age sometimes," she grimaced, reflecting on her mother's choice of dress.

"Humans," Kolyat muttered. "It's hard to tell."

"What? Age?" Oriana quirked an eyebrow. "With the wrinkles and everything, I think it'd be easy."

Kolyat shook his head. The gesture no longer looked so unnatural on him – he'd adopted human body language well. "No. That's not a good way to tell." He folded his arms. "Your father has wrinkles, but your mother doesn't. But they're the same age?"

"That's true." Oriana propped her hands on her hips. "My dad likes you."

Kolyat nictated. Oriana wondered if he was blushing. She couldn't see his jaw ribbing from where she was standing, and the lighting didn't help. The whole room was a dark blue, illuminated only by the lights outside. She'd forgotten to turn the ceiling fixture on. Oh well.

"He's different," Kolyat admitted. The scales on his forehead pinched together. "From _my_ father."

Oriana ran her tongue against the back of her teeth, unsure if she should pursue the topic. Kolyat may be more open with her, but she had to be careful not to abuse that. She already had once; her inner Miranda-voice advised caution.

But she was interested... _very _interested.

The sound of footfalls signaled Kolyat's approach. Oriana brushed hair from her eyes as Kolyat came to stand beside her, though he kept himself at arms-length.

"They keep calling you that word," he said. His lips were still creased in a frown.

"What word?"

"Sun-sheyn."

"That's my nickname," Oriana explained. She twiddled her thumbs together. Damn it, what was it with parents and baby names? She guessed she could have been called something worse. Like Grunt. "And it comes from my real name. Oriana means 'sunrise.'"

Kolyat's frown deepened. His pale pupils drifted to look at her; Oriana resisted the urge to cringe under the sudden scrutiny.

"Earth sunrises are blue?"

Oriana blinked. "No. They're yellow and red. Our skies are blue."

"But your eyes are blue."

"What does my eye color have to do with the sunrise?"

Kolyat nictated, his eyelids flickering so fast that Oriana almost didn't see them. He then looked away, seeming almost embarrassed.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Forget it."

Oriana made an amused sound. "Right. Because _humans _can do that." She tapped at the glass panel of the balcony with her knuckles. "I still think the perfect memory thing would be useful to have."

Kolyat's ensuing chuff made the glass rattle against Oriana's knuckles. "That's what you _think_."

"Okay. It would be useful to have, _selectively_." Oriana brushed at the side of her head and tangled a finger in her hair. "It would help me figure out if I've seen your father before."

That definitely caught Kolyat's attention. "What? When?"

Oriana ran her finger down the glass and was disappointed when it left a streak. She needed a bath. "It was a while back. Back when I met my sister."

"What do you remember?"

Oriana ran her finger back up and frowned. She could remember Nos Astra as a place, but the details were blurry. She could remember standing on the dock, and how the sun had been rising, and how she'd been patiently listening to her parents chattering away about the delay they'd experienced. She couldn't remember just what they'd said, though... And then there had been a feeling of confusion when she'd turned her head and seen her sister approaching. She'd been crying, Oriana was sure of it. Yes, Miranda had definitely been crying. She'd also been wearing that white catsuit thing... huh. Her sister was as bad as her mom...

An alien rumble yanked Oriana from her thoughts. She squinted at the drell that towered over her. "What are you laughing at?"

"Watching you try to remember," Kolyat answered. His lips were pulled into a self-satisfied smirk. It was one of the most animated expressions she'd ever seen on him; she even caught a glimpse of his flat, compacted teeth. "Is human memory _that _bad?"

"Hah hah," she drawled. "Anyway. I remember talking to my sister, but I also remember seeing Shepard."

"Commander Shepard?" Kolyat flinched. "That's one human I'd _like_ to forget."

"Bad memory?"

The drell looked sullen and rubbed at the side of his face. "Something like that," he grumbled.

"We didn't talk or anything. But I think... It's hard to say, but I think I saw someone else with Shepard. A drell."

Kolyat stopped rubbing at his face. "What did he look like?"

"Green, I think. He was wearing... well, sort of what you're wearing. And for some reason I remember thinking that he was showing more cleavage than my sister."

"_What?_"

"That was _my_ reaction." Oriana glanced down at her chest and stopped short of cupping herself. Her sister was beautiful, and while there were similarities, she didn't know if she could pull off the femme fatale thing as well as Miranda.

Nope, no sir. It was closed-shirts and Blasto pajamas for _this_ Lawson.

"That sounds like him," Kolyat said. She wondered if he even knew what cleavage was. As far as Oriana knew, drell didn't have breasts, and neither did hanar. _That_ was a mental image she could do without.

Which left her with the memory of that fateful day on Nos Astra. The more it played over and over in her head, the more Oriana felt her blood boil.

Oh, it was a happy memory, sure – one of her happiest – but it also upset her in ways she had never been able to articulate. Hell, it was hard enough just _thinking_ about it. It was even harder to carry all these mixed emotions around with her, every day, thinking and re-thinking them into the proverbial ground. And just when she thinks the whole thing is okay, and she's _okay,_ something pops up that reminds her that everything is _not_ okay, and then her thoughts start tangling and she just wants to _get it all out_.

But who could she talk to? Her sister? Was throwing a tantrum over e-mail or in a chat the answer? No. Miranda had better things to do. Their chats were a luxury. Oriana had learned to make the best of them.

Her parents? They were better off not knowing.

So who else, then? No one else knew about her secret life. No one except the one person Oriana was alone with, right there, right then – the one person the galaxy had seen fit to nudge her way, the one person she was... _alone_ with... right there, right then.

_Right here? _her mind whimpered. _Right now?_

Yes.

_Yes!_

"It's so frustrating!" Oriana exploded. She could feel Kolyat looking at her, but she didn't look at him, because she knew if she did she would lose all her steam and damn it, she needed to get this off her chest. He would understand, right?

Right?

"_I'm _so frustrated," Oriana clarified, hating the way her voice shook. She stared out the glass, past the Tayseri ward arm, past the Serpent nebula and past the blackness of space at nothing. "I'm not _stupid_. I knew Randa and her 'associates' had been fighting. She had a bruise on her jaw. I remember that. Shepard's armor was scuffed. I remember that. I'm not... _stupid_."

Oriana's palms hit the glass. She was shaking. "It was because of me, but she wouldn't tell me. I don't know what happened, not exactly. But they saved me from something. Can you believe it? They _saved _me."

_My guardian angel. Or angels, in this case.  
_

Kolyat was silent. Oriana could still feel his presence; he was still beside her, although he had taken a few steps back. Good. She needed her space. She needed...

"So many things in my life," Oriana continued, "so many little things - that was all Miranda. We connected just like that, y'know? We even like the same composer, the same movement. Nielsen's Fifth, _adagio non troppo_."

Oriana curled her fingers. She could feel her nails rake against the glass. She shook her head, her voice deceptively steady. "Every time I talk to her, I'm reminded of why she's not _here_. I remember that she's off saving the galaxy. She won't tell me what she's doing, but does she have to? I have an imagination. I'm not _stupid_. I'm just -"

_Weak. Normal. Incapable. A million light years away._

Oriana released a single, shuddering breath. "I invited her to the charity thing... it was the same e-mail I sent you. I knew she couldn't come, but I thought she could tune into the news, or something. I don't know! All I could think about was how great it would be if she were there. And when I didn't see you, I felt worse."

Something hot and wet pooled in Oriana's eyes. She pulled a hand from the glass and wiped at the corner of her left eye, cursing softly when her mascara left a black streak across her wrist. Great. Just great.

She almost didn't hear Kolyat move closer to her.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Oriana pressed, wiping at both eyes this time, her throat so tight that it was hard to breathe. "It's just... God, I don't know." Her voice hitched. She wanted to sniffle, but fought the urge. No need to look like even more of a blubbering child. "I'm not making any sense."

"No," a masculine voice disagreed. She heard a rasping sigh. _Kolyat._ "You are."

Oriana shook her head. Not at Kolyat's words, but at herself. She could feel her hair prickling at the nape of her neck and down the sides of her face. She could see the reflection of her dress in the glass. It gave her something to focus on. She clung to the image, convinced that the blurring of color was the fault of the reflection, and not her childish tears. "It's not Randa's fault, but it just... it makes me so _angry_."

"I know."

"How do you deal with it?"

The question must have taken Kolyat off-guard, because he didn't answer right away. Oriana sighed through her mouth and wiped at her nose. Her eyes still felt hot and watery. Her whole body felt hot. The hand she'd kept braced against the glass was starting to go numb.

"I haven't," Kolyat said at last. His voice was dry.

Oriana laughed. It was an empty laugh, but it was better than nothing. "Guess we're in the same boat."

"I hate boats."

"Me too," Oriana snorted. "Motion sickness."

Silence fell between them. There was the sound of weight shifting; Kolyat's leather boots entered Oriana's line of vision. She smiled down at the floor.

"I guess I'll have to thank your father, too," she continued. "For saving me."

"He does that a lot," the drell said. He sounded tired. "The_ saving people_ thing. It's supposed to help me forgive him or something."

Oriana let her remaining hand drop from the glass. She forced her gaze up from the floor, but made no effort to look at Kolyat. Something told her he was doing the same.

"Have you?" she asked, her breath fogging against the glass. "Forgiven him?"

There was the sound of a slow, heavy exhale. "I did. A long time ago."

That wasn't the answer Oriana had been expecting, even with her limited knowledge on what Kolyat was talking about. "You don't sound happy about it."

Kolyat's reply was bitter. "I'm not."

Another beat of silence. Oriana closed her eyes, ignoring the way her eyelashes stuck together, and considered her next words.

"When my sister walked into my life, I told myself that I would never let her walk back out." She opened her eyes and glanced over at Kolyat's reflection in the glass. "I could do the same for a drell."

Kolyat's reflection shifted. Oriana mirrored the action and turned around, one of her hands raking at the top of her head. The pull of hair against her fingers was comforting. She'd never felt more focused than at that moment, when she and Kolyat faced each other.

And there they were, right back where they'd started – quick glances, searching eyes, black on blue.

_Might as well go for it._

Oriana stopped playing with her hair and gave her eyes one final wipe. She then reached out to the taller drell, her palm up, and managed a small smile. He watched her every movement, his own eyes large and soft – softer than she could ever remember them looking. What was going through his head? She wished she knew.

She swallowed. _Nothing ventured..._ "This is where we hug, right?"

Kolyat's brow ridges shot up. "I don't need a hug."

Oriana wasn't convinced, but she played along. "Yeah, okay. But maybe_ I _do."

Kolyat looked down at her hand. A peculiar expression crossed his plated face – it reminded Oriana of the time she'd showed him how to do a pinky promise. His lips pinched together. Her smile wavered. He peered up at her from the shadows cast by his scaly brow ridges.

...He was going to turn around and walk out the door. Oriana could tell. And as soon as he did, she was going to grab the nearest, most compact thing she could get her hands on and chuck it at the back of his head.

Kolyat's eyes glazed over. The tense line of his shoulders disappeared. Oriana cocked her head when he remained standing in place, his face unreadable.

"...Kolyat?"

And then he did the last thing Oriana expected: He shrugged and said, "What are you waiting for?"

Oriana's lips parted in a small 'o'. She gave the drell a quick glance over. Kolyat quirked a brow at her and lifted his chin.

Had he just...

Her bottom lip trembled. And then it wibbled. And suddenly Oriana was laughing, this time for real, and before she knew it she'd thrown her arms around Kolyat's waist and had her cheek pressed into his vest. Kolyat made a grunting noise when he almost stumbled, but caught himself at the last second. His entire body was solid and warm. A gust of equally warm, dry air blasted across the top of Oriana's head and tickled her hair.

A second passed.

"Er," Kolyat rumbled. Or at least, that's what it sounded like. There was a rattling sound from within his chest. Oriana's eyes snapped open when she felt it vibrate against her jawbone and leave her gums feeling tingly. He must have cleared his throat.

And then she heard another sound, a sound that was so familiar that Oriana felt her brow crinkle in confusion when it thrummed against her ear.

_Thadumphthadumphthadumph._

"Kolyat," she muttered. "This hug is way one-sided." She could feel a silver choker pressing against her temple. Her cheek was also squashed against a number of zippers. The metal was cold. Kolyat was still. Was he even breathing? She probably should have let go by now. It'd been more than two seconds.

Kolyat's hands twitched. Gloves brushed against the sides of her arms. The hair on her arms stood on end. Everything smelled like leather.

He had never felt more real.

_Thadumphthadumphthadumph._

"Kolyat?" she tried again.

Another gust of dry hair tickled the top of her head. "_What_?"

"How long have my parents been listening in through the door?"

A thump sounded from behind the door. Oriana narrowed her eyes at the sound of a muffled curse and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall.

"Two galactic standard minutes," Kolyat replied. She didn't need to see his face to know he was also glowering at the doorway. Despite herself, Oriana giggled.

_Thadumph, thadumph._

His broad body shifted against her. "How long are..."

Oriana sighed and tightened her arms. Kolyat's back twitched. "Fine," she sniffed. "I'm done."

Another rattling sound. "I didn't mean -"

But Oriana had already started to drop her arms. Movement on either side of her made Oriana hesitate, however, and when Kolyat's hands ghosted up her arms and descended on her shoulders, she froze altogether.

"Do you feel better?" he asked. Oriana had wanted to double-check her makeup before making further eye contact, but that plan went nowhere when she looked up. Their eyes locked. Kolyat tilted his head; he looked uncertain. He had a very strong profile, she thought, her mind in a daze. Blue light... blue light looked good on him.

"Yes," she murmured. Her face felt hot. His thumbs were very close to her neck; his gloves tickled the ends of her hair. "Thank you for listening."

The hands Kolyat had placed on her shoulders relaxed. He appeared relieved, if the upward curve of his lips was anything to go by. It looked an awful lot like a smile, only that was impossible.

"You're... welcome," he managed. His hands slid off her shoulders, and he took a few steps back. Oriana could hear her heart in her ears.

_Thadumphthadumphthadumph._

She folded her arms, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "You didn't _have_ to let me hug you, you know."

Kolyat chuffed. "What was I supposed to do? Shove you off?" He stopped when he noticed Oriana's guilty expression. "...You thought I _would_?"

"Sort of," she admitted. She winced at Kolyat's scandalized stare. "You're more cuddly than I gave you credit for, okay?" She rubbed at the side of her cheek and shot his metal choker, as well as his numerous zippers, a sour look. "Even if your outfit dented my face."

Kolyat touched the zippers in question. "_Cuddly?_"

"Oh, come on. You liked it. Admit it." Her heart was racing; she could still feel the ghost of his hands, and the air still smelled like leather.

_Thadumphthadumphthadumph._

Kolyat's eyes narrowed. He drew himself up and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm going to leave."

Oriana burst into laughter when the drell, his head held high, whirled around and marched to the door. She scampered after him and snagged his elbow before he could escape. His pulse was racing just like hers.

_Thadumph, thadumph._

"Wait! Hold on," she managed between breaths. Kolyat stopped and glared down at her. It took everything in Oriana's power to keep a straight face. She was pushing him, she knew, but she'd missed the teasing. It helped her forget her anger. She hoped it would help Kolyat forget, too, in some small way.

"Just answer this," she continued. "Does your heart always beat that fast?"

The violet ribbing of Kolyat's jaw blossomed a deep maroon. "No," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "Only around you."

She felt him untangle her fingers from his arm. She didn't resist, but she didn't rush to pull her hand away, either.

_Mine, too._

* * *

The grace in which Oriana's parents pretended not to have spied on their daughter would have put some of the greatest galactic actors to shame. The first person to greet them when they emerged from the room was Mr. Solheim, and the first thing he had to say had nothing whatsoever to do with his daughter's blurred mascara or her drell companion's twitchy frill.

"Just in time," he announced, as though he had never eavesdropped on anything or anyone, at all, _ever_. He must have felt Oriana's accusatory stare, because he went out of his way to avoid his daughter's eyes. "The Tigers are on. Kolyat, you said you didn't care for sports?"

Kolyat froze. "No?"

"One game." Mr. Solheim held up a finger. "Watch one game with me before you leave, and I'll make a believer out of you."

Whatever protest Kolyat might have had was cut short as Mr. Solheim herded him back into the main room. Oriana rolled her eyes and started after them, but stopped when she noticed her mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"I've already booked a cab for you two," Mrs. Solheim said. She glanced down the stairwell to where her husband was showing off his new vidscreen while Kolyat made a gallant attempt to look interested. "And I paid the fare to get you back to Zakera."

"You didn't have to."

"That's what parents are for, Sunshine." Mrs. Solheim looked down at her adopted daughter and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

For a single, fleeting second, Oriana feared her mother might have overheard her outburst. Oriana's hand flew to her face, but her tears had long since dried. "I'm fine," she said, perhaps too quickly.

Mrs. Solheim gathered her daughter in a hug and sighed against her hair. "If you say so. I know a lot has happened..."

Warmth filled Oriana's being. It was the same kind of warmth she'd felt when she'd stepped onto the stage at the theater, or the warmth she'd felt when Kolyat had touched her hand. She pulled away. "You don't have to explain, mom. And I know Kolyat's not what you expected."

Mrs. Solheim chuckled. "After that stunt with your long-lost sister, your father and I have learned that anything is possible."

With the memory of an alien heartbeat still fresh in her mind, Oriana smiled, and decided that she was in no position to disagree.

* * *

_TO: Oriana Solheim_  
_FROM: Kolyat Krios_  
_SUBJECT: RE: Finger food_

_yes. there was one left. i ate it. why?_

_- kolyat_

-x-

_TO: Miranda Lawson_  
_FROM: Oriana [Lawson]_  
_SUBJECT: Are they all like this?_

_Hey, Randa? Do you know of any good catalogs or magazines for older women? I've been poking around but haven't found anything. I'm trying to give my mom a hint, y'know? Is there a nice way to tell her that borrowing my prom dress and emulating my makeup is NOT OK?_

_If you could use your connections to bump a few hints her way, or something... She won't listen to me. And no Dear Dinah!_

_- Ori_

_ADDT: I know, I know, "Stop abusing my super private extranet account for unimportant stuff." I get it._

_ADDT: Do you think Shepard would have any advice?_

_ADDT: If I send Shepard an e-mail you had better not mark it as spam!_


End file.
